Sentinel, Watcher, Warrior, Guide
by Laura Picken
Summary: The Sentinel secret is betrayed into the hands of the Section - can anyone survive the consequences?
1. Chapter 1

**Sentinel, Watcher, Warrior, Guide**  
by Laura Picken

**Summary:** Crossover with _La Femme Nikita (USA, 1997-2001)_. The Sentinel secret is betrayed into the hands of the Section - can anyone survive the consequences?

Hi all! Since I started writing these things, I've often been as inspired by the works of other authors as I have by TS itself. In particular, this story was inspired by the work of DL Witherspoon. Several of the concepts you'll see in this story refer directly back to one or more of her TS or LFN stories (but, in case you were wondering, -not- to her TS/LFN crossover, _Adaptations_- this could actually be considered more of a tie-in to her LFN stories, _Prodigy_ and _Academy_). If you get confused (hopefully you won't), go to her page and read her stuff first. Then come back and read this one! Oh, and archivists: please pay attention to the fact that this story has two different titles, one that's more appropriate to each universe. Depending on which universe you're archiving for, please use the corresponding title. Thanks!

**Disclaimer:** Don't own any of 'em. Never have, never will. Many thanks to DL Witherspoon for writing such great stuff (and for beta reading this story - jeez I'm spoiled...). Without her, this would be (pun intended) a whole 'nother story.

And now, on with the show...

* * *

Operations had to resist the urge to pace as he waited for his meeting to begin. Instead, he fiddled with the Sig Sauer P38 now sitting on his desk. First he cleaned it. Then he loaded it, popped one in the chamber, screwed on the silencer and waited. After a couple of minutes, he unloaded it, then loaded it again. Unscrewed the silencer, then screwed it back on again.

Contrary to popular belief, this was the part of the job he hated. Many thought he held no value for human life-a fact that simply was not true. If he held no value to human life, why would he work so hard to try and save millions of human lives every day? In fact, when it came to 'the dirty work', as he used to call it, he rarely wanted to do it himself. It was much easier to get someone else to do it.

Except this time. This time, the man who was about to walk into his office had driven him to such heights of aggravation that Operations felt compelled to be the one to watch the last moments of his life. When sixteen of Section's best men and women died because this man refused to follow an order, that was a risk that could no longer be tolerated.

Operations was drawn out of his thoughts by the arrival of the man in question. As that man sat down in front of Operations desk, Operations asked him, "Mr. Brackett, do you know why I have called you here this evening?"

Lee Brackett, ex-CIA agent and current Section operative, shook his head. "No sir, I don't..."

Casually, Operations picked up the gun from his desk, chambered a bullet, and removed the safety, watching with satisfaction, as the eyes of the unarmed man in front of him grew wide with horror. It was the first true emotion the man had shown since he was first recruited.

Smelling the fear in the air and seeing it in Lee Brackett's eyes, Operations leaned over the desk and stated simply, "You're here, Mr. Brackett, because I'm going to cancel you personally. But before I cancel you, I want you to know exactly -why- you are being canceled."

As Operations walked around to sit on the desk in front of the troublesome operative he began, "When we first took notice of you, Brackett, you intrigued us not simply because of your keen intellect, but because of your ruthlessness. You utilize whatever means necessary to accomplish your goal at any cost. Unfortunately, that is your greatest weakness as well." Leaning down to get in the man's face, Operations asked, "Would you like to know -why- that is, Mr. Brackett?"

Staring into the eyes of his would-be executioner, Lee was smart enough to be terrified, a fact that was evidenced by the growing lump the ex-CIA agent was feeling in his throat. Lee Brackett, who had never been speechless in his life, was, by this point, barely able to squeak out, "Why is that...Sir?"

Walking around to sit behind the desk once again, Operations propped his feet up and replied, "There is not a single operative in this organization who goes into a mission alone. Even if his only backup is someone sitting on point, there is -always- someone backing up each and every one of our operatives. So it would make sense that I would need good people, people I trust, to fill those roles, both in the field and on point, wouldn't you agree?"

As Brackett nervously nodded, Operations leaned in again and coolly continued, "So you see, Lee, the problem is that I find it absolutely impossible to see you ever being able to be trusted with protecting the lives of anyone but yourself. And that makes you dangerous. And that danger, Mr. Brackett, is unacceptable."

Standing up, Operations picked up the gun, aiming for the middle of Brackett's forehead. He was a microsecond away from pulling the trigger when Brackett stopped him. "Wait," exclaimed the younger man, "What if we can cut a deal?"

Operations simply gawked at the man before him, amazed by his level of arrogance. "What could you -possibly- have to bargain with, Brackett?"

"Information," replied Brackett, "On the ultimate weapon." He hadn't said a word about his past to this point because he figured he would simply be pegged for crazy, but now, what did he have to lose?

Brackett's temporary reprieve came as Operations rested his arm on the desk, his hand still covering the weapon. Operations was reluctant to do this, but it would be even worse if he let a piece of information slip out of his hands only to be discovered later by, say, Red Cell. Sighing, he asked, "What kind of weapon are we talking about here, Brackett?"

Brackett almost smiled. Finally, he had the man's attention. "What would you say if I told you that I know of a man who could hear your heart beating if you were standing on opposite sides of the street during Mardi Gras and the parade was passing between you? That he can see twice as far as your best sharpshooter? That he can pick up a heap of ashes and tell what burned and what set it on fire just by rubbing the ashes between his fingers? And that his abilities were perfectly natural, with no benefit of technology?"

Getting a good laugh out of the absurd tale Brackett was spinning, Operations decided to go along with the man, even though he was clearly delusional. "Oh really?" And just -who- would this gentleman be?"

Now Brackett actually -did- smile. If he could just make his way closer to that gun... He answered Operations' question, "The man's name is Detective James Ellison, and he works for the police department in Cascade, Washington. Oh, but if you grab him, you have to grab his partner, Blair Sandburg, along with him. Otherwise, Ellison's abilities will be of no use to you, and all you'll have on your hands is a babbling lunatic."

Operations joined in Brackett's smile. "Thanks, but no thanks, Brackett. I actually just got rid of one babbling lunatic."

"Really?" responded Brackett, trying to feign surprise, "And who would that be?"

Operations simply nodded and smiled again. "You."

With speed that spoke little of his age, the older man tightened his hold on the gun before Brackett could grab it, and in one swift move, ended the conversation by placing a bullet directly between the other man's eyes.

Before he called the cleanup crew, Operations looked across his desk at the late Lee Brackett and commented, "I will take your suggestion under advisement, though."

* * *

After cleaning up himself from the cancellation, Operations walked down the short corridor that separated his office from the empty briefing room, where Madeline was waiting for him. Noticing the strain on her old colleague's face, she asked, "So is it over?"

Operations nodded. "Brackett will no longer be a problem." Sitting in his chair at the head of the table, he had to resist the urge to laugh in disbelief as he remembered Brackett's last words. "The man was a sniveling wimp. Can you believe he started rambling on about a man with heightened senses?"

Madeline cocked a curious eyebrow at Operations' statement. This did not sound like Lee Brackett to her, even if he were under the stress of staring death in the face. "Really? What did he say?"

As Operations recounted every absurd detail of Brackett's last words, the profiler's mind worked quickly, piecing together every possibility for the late operative's motives. Reaching a conclusion, she calmly asked, "Would you like my opinion as to what was going through Brackett's mind when he said those things to you?"

Curious, but not surprised that Madeline actually -had- an opinion on the subject, Operations nodded. The profiler continued, "Brackett may simply have been trying to get the gun away from you, but he was also far too intelligent to try to concoct such a far-fetched story unless there was at least a grain of truth to it. I suggest we go back into his files and see if he had any contact with either a James Ellison or a Blair Sandburg. Heightened senses or not, they may be of some use to us."

Operations nodded just as Michael, Nikita, Birkoff and Walter walked in to be briefed on their current mission. He ordered Madeline, "Get back to me with what you find out."

* * *

Later that day, Madeline returned to the briefing room to find Operations waiting for her. Steel locking eyes with steel, Operations asked, "What do you have for me?"

Punching up backgrounds of Jim and Blair for Operations' perusal, Madeline replied, "Well, Ellison and Sandburg do exist-Ellison is the cop who finally got Brackett, but only after he tried to force Ellison and Sandburg to help him steal a top-secret spy plane. Both men are brilliant - Ellison in particular has a covert ops background."

Scrolling through the information, Operations asked, "And Sandburg?"

"Let's just say the man's background could only be described as...eclectic."

Operations mumbled, "Eclectic..." Out loud he asked Madeline, "And what about Brackett's nonsense about heightened senses? Any evidence of that?"

Madeline replied, "Only if you're looking for it. The evidence in Ellison's record could be interpreted any number of ways."

"Course of action?"

"I think both men would make excellent operatives."

Operations sighed, and looked up again at the pictures of the two men on the viewscreen. Sandburg, in particular, didn't fit his idea of what an operative should be like, but, then again, neither did Birkoff. Still, the man was useful at times...

"Very well. Bring them in."

* * *

Jim rolled his eyes, but resisted the urge to laugh at the lively conversation going on around him. True, it -seemed- like a good idea to bring Daryl along on their fishing trip even after Simon had to beg off due to work-related commitments. After all, the teen needed more time with strong male role models. And he and Blair got along very well. That was Jim's first mistake.

"Come on," groaned Blair, "I -can't- believe that you like that guy!"

"Why not?" responded Daryl. "His work is just as good Sam Cooke, maybe even better."

"Yeah," replied Blair, "You're only saying that because he's dead. Gee, maybe after I'm gone, maybe you'll start thinking of -me- as a cultural icon..."

After three hours of this type of argument, Jim's pounding headache overrode any opinion he could possibly have on the matter. He simply hoped he would be able to find some peace and quiet - and soon.

That headache led Jim to his second mistake: since the beat of the world music Blair had begged to play was pounding at his skull, Jim had turned his hearing down that he couldn't hear much of what was going on outside of the truck. Years later, when he looked back on the incident, Jim realized that if his hearing had been turned up and focused on his surroundings, then he might have had some clue - some indication that there was something wrong.

As it was, they never knew what hit them.

Walter was using this mission to test out a new experimental bomb - pressure- triggered and precisely calibrated to cause the truck to roll over without destroying it. The device worked like a charm: all three passengers, who (fortunately) were securely buckled into the truck, were unconscious, but survived the accident.

The team moved quickly from that point, focusing their attentions on their objective inside the truck. Removing the bodies of the two men from the front seat, the team started to move away from the truck when Nikita noticed the teen slumped in the back seat. She called to the team leader, "Michael!"

Quickly the operative passed the unconscious Ellison on to two others, then made his way over to his protege. Calmly, he asked her, "What is it, Nikita?"

Nikita pointed to the young man in the car. "What are we going to do about him?"

"What about him, Nikita?"

Knowing what they were about to do to the car, Nikita insisted, "We can't just - leave- him here!"

Sighing, Michael consented, "All right, but -you're- going to be the one to explain this to Operations." Nikita's fierce defense of 'innocents' was a trait he knew well, and by this point, he refused to try and break her of it. That strength often helped her to be a voice of light and reason in the hell that was Section. It was the only voice that he fully trusted.

Nikita nodded, her stern expression belying the relief she felt in her heart. She refused to let a child, any child die if she could do something about it. "Agreed. Now let's get him out of here."

The two operatives moved quickly, prying open the back seat and extricating the unconscious teen. Slinging the boy over one shoulder, Michael quickly forced Nikita out of the way and moved them a safe distance from the truck moments before it exploded in flames.

* * *

Once the team was safely assembled back in the van, Nikita immediately scanned her charge's fingerprints into the computer in the hopes of getting an ID on the boy, and perhaps some information. As she began to scroll through the surprising file on the boy, Nikita's expression grew into a wide smile.

Michael couldn't help but notice the rare expression on Nikita's face. She looked like the cat that had just swallowed the canary. Making his way over to the computer station, he asked Nikita, "What's going on?"

"I got an ID on the boy," Nikita replied. Turning the computer so that Michael could look at the screen she began, "His name is Daryl Banks - he's the son of Ellison and Sandburg's supervisor. Look at some of the scrapes this kid's gotten out of..."

Michael continued for her, reading aloud from the information on the screen. "Held hostage by domestic terrorists...in police headquarters, no less...escaped drug runners in Peru and helped to destroy their base of operations..."

Nikita commented, "Sounds almost like he's an operative-in-training." Looking up at Michael with a pleading expression on her face, Nikita's next question was so innocent-sounding that the operative had to fight the urge to laugh. "Can we keep him, Michael?"

Even working hard to keep his emotions in check, a small chuckle still slipped past Michael's tight control. Calming down, he managed to reply, "It's not my decision, Nikita. You know that." Allowing himself the chance to glance over at the unconscious teen, he thought to himself, [But Daryl, I'd day your chances of survival just improved considerably...]

* * *

To say that Operations was nonplused by Nikita's new 'project' would be a gross understatement. He knew -why- she had done it: Nikita's legendary compassion was also, in his opinion, her greatest weakness. [Doesn't she understand that her -compassion- for people like Daryl is what almost got her canceled the first time?] Even Madeline had, at this point, advised him to -not- pursue more attempts to change that side of Nikita's character.

So the question remained of how to deal with her -now-. Watching the woman who had followed him to his office and was now sitting in front of him, he asked her, "Tell me something, Nikita. Can you give me one good reason why I shouldn't cancel you -and- the boy right this minute?"

Calmly, coolly, Nikita replied, "Because canceling the boy would mean destroying an investment in someone who could, four or five years down the road, become one of your best operatives."

Intrigued, Operations watched as Nikita made her way over to his computer and pulled up the information on Daryl Banks. As he read while she returned to her seat, he began to see what Nikita was talking about. After his experiences with Angela and the other children from the Academy, he was begrudgingly beginning to see the potential hidden within certain gifted children. Apparently Nikita saw that potential in young Daryl Banks as well, even though the child's academic records proved to be less than exemplary. He told Nikita, "So you think we should bring Daryl to the Academy." It was a statement, not a question.

Operations almost shuddered at the calm look on Nikita's face. She was growing to be more and more like Madeline every day. "I think that the boy will surprise us, once he understands his options. It's his best chance."

Operations mumbled, "It's his only chance..." Out loud he ordered Nikita, "All right, debrief the boy and make arrangements for his transport to the Academy. Consider that your assignment until the boy is situated." Changing the subject to matters he was far more comfortable with, he then asked her, "How are our two current recruits?"

Nikita replied, "Both are still unconscious from the crash. I've asked Madeline to 'introduce' Professor Sandburg to Section."

Operations agreed with the choice. Madeline could be surprisingly gentle when the situation called for it. "I'll send Michael to work with Ellison. Hopefully these two will be worth the trouble we've taken to get them here."

* * *

Michael got the call later that night that Ellison was awake. Which was surprising, considering that the doctors had not expected the man to regain consciousness for several more hours. Standing now outside Ellison's quarters, one of the doctors briefed him, "He called for his partner several times when he first awoke, but now he simply sits on the edge of his bed, silent and motionless in the middle of the room."

Michael asked, "What is his physical condition?"

The doctor replied, "Physically, he's fine. He seems to be in a semi-catatonic state, where his heart rate and breathing have slowed slightly. I was hoping you could shock him out of it."

If Michael was surprised at all by Ellison's condition he did not show it. Instead he simply thanked the doctor and walked calmly into the room.


	2. Chapter 2

When Blair's eyes opened all he saw was light. First, from the white walls surrounding him, then from the fluorescent lights above. If this was the entrance to heaven, it certainly didn't feel like it-his head, his shoulders, and his left leg all still hurt like hell.

A slight noise startled him out of his self-analysis, and he watched as a woman walked into the room. She was a complete contrast to all this 'light' - dark hair, dark eyes, and even a black suit. She looked down at Blair with a purposefully blank expression, and greeted him, "Hello, Professor Sandburg."

[Professor Sandburg?] thought Blair, [Well, apparently, they know who -I- am...] Finding his voice with some difficulty, he got up the strength to ask her, "Jim?"

[Strange that his first thought coming out of unconsciousness is to ask about his partner, and not where he was...] "Detective Ellison is recovering. His injuries were minor."

[Injuries?] Memories of the accident came back to hit him full force. "Daryl...?"

"The boy is fine. He's being well taken care of."

Blair sighed with relief. His voice growing stronger, he asked the woman, "So are you people going to tell me exactly -what- kind of covert operation you are, or do I have to guess?"

[Doesn't beat around the bush, does he? It's almost like he expected something like this to happen...] "We are Section One, the most covert of anti-terrorist organizations. When the CIA can't or won't take out someone, they become our responsibility."

Finding his strength returning slowly, Blair tried to sound innocent as he asked her, "So why do you want me? I'm only an anthropologist."

The dark-haired woman smiled enigmatically. "Oh, you're much more than an anthropologist, Professor Sandburg."

* * *

Michael watched with surprise as Ellison's head snapped back spontaneously, the sound of his deep breaths filling the room. After Jim had recovered from the zone out and adjusted his senses to the environment around him, he didn't know - -where- he was, exactly, but he had definite hunches. Locking eyes with the figure in the dark suit, he greeted the man sarcastically, "I suppose you're the welcome wagon."

Instead of the punch he thought was coming, he was rewarded with pictures tossed casually on the bed next to him. Lifting his arms to retrieve the photos, Jim discovered, surprisingly, that they had not put restraints on him. Either they didn't know who he was, or anyone around him would be at least on his level in terms of physical strength and combat skills.

He decided not to chance anything, since he didn't know where his Guide was being held yet. Instead, he looked at the pictures in front of him. They were of a funeral. Two coffins stood side by side, both draped with an American flag and nearly buried under a mountain of flowers. A military honor guard stood alongside the gravesite, signifying that at least one of the deceased was military. His sight now focusing on the individual faces in the crowd, he began to see a disturbing number of them that he recognized. Old Army buddies. Everyone from Major Crimes, and a good contingent of people from other areas of the department.

There were probably other friends of his as well, but they were lost in the sea of people from Rainier. Faculty of all ages, students, and even the janitors from the Anthropology building were there. And, standing at the head of the coffins, was the motley crew that represented their family: Naomi, Sharon, Simon, Steven, and his father. Quickly he scanned the picture for evidence that it was a fake, but if it was a fake, it was an incredibly good one. Apparently, this was their funeral. His side, evidently, was staged, but...

Before his mind could fully process what he was looking at, he heard the man in the dark suit telling him, "Row PF, plot 9. They buried you together, if that's any consolation to you. Everyone seemed to think it somehow fitting that you be together in death as you were in life. Apparently, you were both well-loved, and well-mourned."

With tightly controlled rage evident in his voice, Jim glared at the man in the dark suit. "Where is my partner?"

"Professor Sandburg has not been harmed -"

Before the man in the dark suit could finish what he was saying Jim cut him off. "And the boy?" He didn't want to give away Daryl's name if they didn't know it already yet.

Coolly composed, the man in the dark suit replied, "Young Mr. Banks is safe, for the time being."

Turning to glare at his captor, Jim asked, "So what do you want from me?"

The man in the dark suit cocked his head as if to say something else, then his expression cooled to its normal stoicism. "We want you to work for us."

"Who is us?"

"Section One. We eliminate the criminals no one else has the nerve to go after."

* * *

When Blair nodded his encouragement, the dark-haired woman continued, "You and your partner have the highest cases solved rate in the history of your police department. Highly unusual considering your partner's traumatic background and the fact that you are not a police officer. After further investigation we came to the conclusion that you and your partner would be a highly valued asset to our organization."

The dark-haired woman's speech brought two things to light for Blair: 1) Jim's being held somewhere close by, and 2) either these people don't know about Jim's senses, they don't believe in them, or they know, and believe, and aren't telling. Both of these revelations brought him great comfort, as did the faith he had in their Watcher, Simon, who was surely worried sick about them by now.

[Simon...] Blair allowed himself a small sigh of relief. [As long as Simon knows we didn't die in that crash, he'd never stop looking for us. Probably would drag half of Major Crimes along with him...] Looking over to the dark- haired woman he warned her. "We won't be here for long, you know. There will be people looking for us."

The corners of the dark-haired woman's mouth turned upward just slightly, and Blair could have sworn she was fighting off the urge to smile. The woman's expression quickly darkened, though, and her eyes spoke more of pity than amusement. Quietly, she replied, "Professor Sandburg, no one is looking for you."

In response to Blair's confused expression, the dark-haired woman handed him a series of photos and replied quietly, "To everyone else in the world, Professor Sandburg, you, your partner, and young Mr. Banks are dead."

Blair looked up at the dark-haired woman in disbelief. Slowly regaining a tiny semblance of composure, he looked down to the photos he was holding in his shaking hands. The photos were of a double funeral. He could make out the dress uniforms of the cops, and some other men in (evidently) military dress uniforms. There seemed to be hundreds of others there, but the three people who immediately captured his attention were the blond-haired woman, the red-haired woman, and the black man in police dress uniform who were standing at the head of the dual grave. Sharon had never met his mother, and yet the two women had their arms around each other like old friends. And both women were obviously crying. This photo was either a very good fake or...or... In a whisper that even -he- was barely able to hear, Blair exclaimed, "Oh my God..."

* * *

Jim asked the man in the dark suit, "And what happens if I don't want to work for you?"

* * *

Blair asked the dark-haired woman, "So what happens if I decide I don't want to work for you?"

* * *

In separate rooms, at separate times, Michael and Madeline had the same response. "Then you, your partner, and your young friend Mr. Banks will all be canceled."

It wasn't hard for Jim or Blair to understand what that meant - do or die.

For all of them.

* * *

The man in the dark suit locked eyes with Jim, whose cold, emotionless expression now mirrored his own. As he backed up to leave the room he ordered Jim, "Get some rest. Your training starts tomorrow at 5 am."

* * *

The dark-haired woman looked down at the young man she was talking to and allowed herself to smile gently. She directed him, "Why don't you get some sleep? Your training will start in the morning, and you're going to need your rest."

As the woman opened the door to his 'cell', Blair called out to her, "Will I see you again?"

Turning her head to face Blair, the woman nodded.

Blair, in turn, asked her, "Can I have a name to call you by for next time, then?"

The woman smiled slightly in response. Her last words to Blair before she left for the night were, "You can call me Madeline."

Moments after Madeline left, the lights darkened in Blair's cell, and he took that as his cue to go to sleep. Knowing that, for now, Jim and Daryl were all right, and safe, it didn't take long for Blair to do just that.

* * *

Michael joined Madeline in the spot where she had asked for them to meet-a walkway that overlooked the special reflective glass ceilings in the 'first night' rooms. It was from that spot that Madeline watched Section's two newest recruits as they rested, while she pondered Blair Sandburg's curious reactions to his new life.

The brush of Michael's shoulder against her own brought her attention to the present. Without looking up, she calmly asked, "What are your impressions of Ellison?"

"Once he had ascertained the safety of his partner and the boy, he withdrew completely. He seemed to ask the questions he thought I wanted to hear, and that was that."

Madeline added that piece to the puzzle, then began to think out loud, trying to make connections. "Professor Sandburg is most definitely hiding something, of that I am certain. And his first concern was for his partner, as well. There's an unusually strong relationship between the two men." Drawing her conclusions, she declared, "I'm going to request that they be considered as one operative for the time being."

If Michael was astonished, he had the courtesy not to show it. This type of a team was unprecedented in Section - normally each operative was treated as one commodity. One highly expendable commodity. Not only were relationships frowned upon in Section, they were practically forbidden. You didn't form strong ties to someone when you might be killing them or sending them to their death the next day.

And yet Madeline was suggesting that these two be treated as a single operative? That their 'bond', for lack of a better word, be acknowledged and worked around? Unbelievable. "Do you believe that Brackett might have been telling the truth about them?"

"That Ellison has abnormally heightened senses? No, I don't believe that to be true. However, I looked at Ellison's records both before and after his partnership with Sandburg, and it is quite likely that if we tried to split up their partnership, Ellison would make Brackett look selfless. His relationship with Sandburg gives him a level of stability and emotional control that would not be there otherwise. Is there anything else you think I should know about Ellison?"

When Michael shook his head, Madeline dismissed him by stating, "Very well then, that will be all."

* * *

When Daryl woke up, the first thing he noticed was that his chest hurt. A lot. The second thing was that wherever he was, it was dark. As he started to open his eyes, it became very clear that this -definitely- was not a hospital. So what kind of a place was this?

As he sat up, his eyes started to adjust to the moonlight coming into the room through the small window. He looked around, trying to get a better glimpse of his surroundings. The room looked comfortable enough - it was supplied with a desk, closet, dresser, and what seemed to be a small work area. It reminded him a little of the college dorm rooms that were in the brochures his mother kept trying to force on him. On the desk was a computer that looked more powerful than anything he had ever seen before. His fingers were practically itching from his desire to try out the machine.

However, when he took one look at the desk chair, Daryl soon realized that he was not alone in the room. A tall, beautiful blond woman was sitting in the chair, her feet propped up on the desk. In the light that was reflected from the computer screen, it was clear to Daryl that she was dozing off. [Hmmm...If I could just sneak past her, maybe I could get some kind of an idea as to where I am...]

No dice. The second one of his feet made contact with the cold hardwood floor, the tall woman's eyes instantly flew open. Daryl was frozen to his spot, too nervous to think or move.

Now wide awake, Nikita got her bearings, then remembered quickly where she was and why she was here. Her eyes wandering over to the bed in the corner, she realized her young charge was awake. Flashing her kindest smile, she greeted him, "Good, you're awake."

Blindly, all Daryl could do was simply nod. Nikita walked over to the bed and pulled up a chair. Offering her hand, she introduced herself, "Hi. My name's Nikita."

As his nerves started to calm down, Daryl's ability to speak returned to him. Shaking Nikita's hand he answered her, "My name's Daryl. Where am I?"

Nikita sighed, trying to find a way to make this as easy on the boy as possible. "This is a special school, Daryl. It's going to be your new home for a while."

Daryl looked back at her, confused. He watched the moonlight playing off her blond hair, and decided this was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. It didn't mean, though, that she wasn't some psycho nut criminal out to get Jim or Blair or his Dad-not like -that- hadn't happened to him before.

In response to Daryl's confused look, Nikita asked, "Daryl, do you remember anything about the accident?"

Daryl thought back to the last thing he remembered before waking up in the room. "I remember being in the back seat of Jim's truck, then..." His breath started to catch in his throat as Daryl remembered rolling in the truck with disturbing clarity. He didn't remember coming to a stop...he also didn't know if his friends were alive or...

Nikita put a hand on Daryl's shoulder in an effort to soothe the increasingly distraught teen. When he jerked back from her touch, Nikita continued to reassure him, "Daryl, both of your friends are okay."

His eyes blazing with fear and fury, Daryl screamed, "Then where are they!"

Moving in slightly closer, Nikita replied, "They're not here. Daryl, it's kind of hard to explain..."

After he took a deep breath to calm down, Daryl cut her off, asking Nikita, "Well apparently I've got some time on my hands right now, so why don't you give it a shot?"

Nikita sighed. This was the part she -wasn't- looking forward to. "Daryl, we didn't expect you to be in the truck with Ellison and Sandburg..."

[Well question one answered,] thought Daryl, [They -were- after Jim and Blair...]

Nikita continued, "But after we heard about some of the your adventures, we decided it might be worth it to invest in training you, as well."

Daryl was confused. "Wait a minute, what do you mean, training me -as well-? Training me to do what?"

Carefully and cautiously, Nikita explained about Section One and the Academy. As Daryl listened to Nikita's explanation, he didn't know whether to be angry, scared, or excited. On the one hand, they had nearly killed him by causing that car accident, kidnapped him and his friends, and were now holding them essentially as hostages. And apparently, their initial impression of him was to simply kill him outright, a fact which did little to reassure him.

But on the other hand, they -hadn't- killed him. Instead they were offering him the chance to live the life that James Bond only got to live in the movies. Apparently, they saw some sort of potential in him - which was more than he could say for his mother. There was just one question plaguing his thoughts at that point, and he asked it. "Nikita, what happens if I don't want to work for Section after I graduate?"

Nikita swallowed hard, then replied quietly, "They'll probably kill you."

[Wow.] Daryl drew in a deep breath, and let it out slowly. At least Nikita was being honest with him. "And you're telling me that Jim and Blair are being trained to work for the Section too?" Nikita nodded. "Will I be able to see them?"

Nikita shook her head. "Probably not. They're not going to be allowed away from Section much until they complete their training."

"And how long will that take?"

"Two years."

Daryl swallowed hard. Two years before he would even have a chance to see his friends again? And even then, the opportunities to see them would be few and far between. His thoughts traveled to his father. [God, he must be worried sick...] Looking up at Nikita, Daryl asked, quietly, "Nikita?"

"Yes, Daryl?"

"How much does my father know about this?"

[Now for the tough part...] "Daryl...everyone from your life before this, other than Jim and Blair-they all think that you're dead."

Daryl gasped, the look of shock evident on his face. Considering everything Nikita had been telling him, he should have expected this, but still... "Even my parents?"

Solemnly, Nikita nodded. Getting up from her chair, she went to the desk, picked up a stack of pictures, and returned. "We had these taken at your funeral."

Daryl flipped through the pictures with an almost detached curiosity. Sure enough, the pictures were of a funeral. They were taken from some distance away, but as he flipped through the photos it wasn't hard for Daryl to see the faces of his grieving parents among the crowd. What surprised him, though, was the number of people from Major Crimes who were there. It seemed to him as if every face he ever remembered seeing in the department was there, with two notable exceptions. And Daryl had some idea as to where they were.

Daryl looked up from the pictures, staring blankly into space. The disbelief evident in his voice, he told Nikita, "I keep thinking that this is all some sort of bizarre dream. That any moment now I'll wake up and I'll be in front of the campfire with Jim and Blair or at home, in bed, waiting for dad to wake me up."

Nikita smiled, and squeezed the boy's shoulder, trying to be as reassuring as possible. "That's normal. For weeks I kept waking up and wondering if I was going to be in prison again when I opened my eyes. And for a couple of months I debated which would be worse, waking up in prison or waking up in the Section."

Before she could continue, though, Daryl caught the last part of her statement. "Wait a minute, you were in -prison-?"

Nikita nodded. "I had been a witness to a murder. The guy who did it shoved the bloody knife in my hands and framed me for it. Since I was a street kid at the time, I was convicted pretty quickly. One night they snatched me out of prison and 'recruited' me to Section. I've been here ever since." [More or less...]

Daryl looked down at the pictures again, then up at his new friend. Nikita continued to reassure him, "But the Academy is different. I know all the students here. The teachers are excellent, and you'll learn more than you ever would have in the schools in Cascade. I'm sure you'll do great."

A thought occurred to Daryl as he continued to try and sort out the overwhelming tide of thoughts and emotions that were threatening to flood him. "You work for the Section, right?"

Nikita nodded. "That's right."

"So you're going to have to go off on another mission soon, right?"

Again, Nikita nodded. "Yes, but not right away. I have to stick around here for a while anyway to make sure the security protocols are still in place, so I can make sure that you get settled into a proper routine here."

For the first time since he woke up in this strange place, Daryl smiled. "Good. It'll be good to have at least one familiar face to go to for now."

Considering how fast Daryl had considered Nikita his 'friend', Nikita smiled in return. It seems she now had yet another 'child' to protect, in addition to her 'daughter' and all of her other 'nieces' and 'nephews' at the school.

Looking at her watch, Nikita realized that it was 4 a.m. Life wasn't set to start for another three hours at the Academy. She asked Daryl, "Well, since we're up so early, is there anything you'd like to do? Eat, perhaps?"

Daryl looked again to the computer on the desk, his eyes brimming with anticipation. "Actually...I was wondering if I could take a crack at that computer over there?"

Nikita had to stifle the urge to laugh as the excited teen made his way over to the desk. Yes indeed, Daryl Banks was going to be just fine.


	3. Chapter 3

As she had expected, Daryl had adjusted quickly to his new life at the Academy, and was fast making friends with the other children. Angela was one of the first children that Nikita introduced Daryl to, and the two hit it off right away. When the perceptive little girl sensed the growing connection between Nikita and Daryl, her excitement at having a new friend grew by leaps and bounds. After all, she had always wanted an older brother, and it seemed that her 'mother' had even found that for her as well.

So it was with some sadness that Nikita left her two 'children' after Daryl was comfortably settled in. In the transport back to Section, she closed her eyes and remembered her last meeting with Daryl and Angela before she left...

Nikita's office was deemed the safest place to meet without any fear of the other students asking questions. After the two children were inside, she sat them close to her and pulled out a yellow pad, fully aware of the positions of the security cameras in the room. Taking out a marker so she could write quickly, she scrawled on the notepad, 'Do you trust me, Daryl?'

When the teen looked over to her and nodded, Nikita wrote on the pad, 'Angela is very special to me. She is my adopted 'daughter'. She likes you- thinks you are her 'big brother'. Is that OK?'

Daryl looked over at the precocious little girl sitting on the other side of Nikita. She was several years younger than he was, but she had grown on him even in the few days he'd known her. Daryl was still confused, though. Just what was Nikita asking?

As if she had anticipated Daryl's confused response to her statement, Nikita wrote, 'Can you promise me you'll take care of Angela when I'm not around? Be her real big brother?' This was a calculated move on her part. True, she did like Daryl a lot, and she was impressed with his ability to take care of himself and adapt quickly to a difficult situation. But she also figured that having someone to take care of would keep him from getting consumed with missing his old life.

It didn't take Daryl long to decide what he wanted to do. All of his life he had been the 'baby' - the one everyone wanted to take care of. First Mom and Dad, then everyone in Major Crimes. Blair had related to him on his level, but Blair was gone. And now, Nikita trusted him enough to take care of her daughter? He wanted to make sure that he was worthy of that big a responsibility. In fact, he was determined to become worthy of it. Smiling, he nodded his agreement...

And Nikita was shaken out of her pleasant thoughts by the transport pulling into Section. Michael was waiting for her as she left the van. "Operations and Madeline would like to speak with you immediately."

Nodding her acceptance of the order, Nikita turned the corner to head for Madeline's office. As he escorted her, Michael asked, "Is the boy settled in?"

Nikita nodded. "He's doing quite well, actually." Pulling Michael in for a conspiratorial whisper, Nikita confided, "Angela thinks of him as her 'big brother'."

Even through Michael's emotionless exterior, Nikita could pick up the slight dread on his face, and she knew Michael was dreading the thought of being 'father' to another child. "Relax, Michael," she whispered, "He hasn't even met you yet." Turning her thoughts from Daryl to more important business, she knew that Daryl's friends Jim and Blair would be two weeks into their training by now. She asked her mentor, "How are Ellison and Sandburg doing?"

"Excellent. They show great promise. With the uniqueness of their backgrounds I believe they could finish their training even sooner than most."

"Really?" Nikita raised an eyebrow in surprise. Apparently the two men were being treated differently from the other recruits.

"Considering their backgrounds, that shouldn't be surprising, Nikita. Both men have areas in which they are stronger than most, and since they are to be considered as one operative - "

That piece of news stopped Nikita in her tracks. "Wait a minute, they're to be considered as -one-?"

Michael shrugged. "After Madeline looked at their police records, she figured it would be best-"

"And Operations agreed to this?" [He must -really- be in love with that woman...]

Michael nodded.

Nikita shook her head in amazement as Michael opened the door to Madeline's office, effectively ending their conversation. As the two operatives sat down in the office, Madeline greeted them, "Welcome back, Nikita. How is Daryl doing?"

Calmly, Nikita replied, "Quite well, thank you."

Madeline nodded her approval. Apparently Nikita had developed a connection to the boy in the short time she had been there. Nikita's seemed as protective of Daryl as she was of Angela-a relationship which had been beneficial for all of them.

Operations then turned to Michael and asked, "And how are Ellison and Sandburg doing?"

"Excellent. They work better together than many of our more experienced teams. I believe that, considering the strength of their combined experience, they will be able to complete their training in less time than it is taking the other recruits."

Operations wasn't entirely convinced that letting the two stay together was such a good idea. "Do you have any indication that they could be planning some sort of rebellion or escape?"

Michael shook his head. "They're both fully aware of the danger in which that would place not only them, but Daryl as well. They've made their peace with where they are."

Operations wasn't totally convinced, but he was relieved nonetheless. "Good. Now about your next mission..."

* * *

In deference to their unique 'single op' status, Jim and Blair were allowed to room together, with a second bed being moved in to the quarters to properly accommodate them. Tired and sore, Blair stumbled into those quarters and collapsed on his bed, hoping that someone wouldn't be coming to move him for at least an hour or so.

Looking up from his computer 'homework', Jim laughed as he heard his partner moan from the other side of the room. "Tough workout today, chief?"

Not willing to form a coherent sentence yet, Blair simply nodded. Self-defense was one of the few classes that Blair took without Jim, along with basic weapons. The rest of their classes were taken together. At the beginning, Jim took some computer classes alone when it had become clear that Blair knew far more about technology than his partner, but the quick-witted former soldier caught on quickly, and they were paired together in that class now as well.

Finally finding enough energy to find his voice, Blair called to his roommate, "Hey Jim?"

Not looking up from his homework, Jim replied, "Yeah, chief?"

"Don't you find it odd that they kept us together like this?"

Jim looked up from his book to look over at his partner. Ever since Jim realized that they were being monitored pretty much everywhere they went, they had learned to communicate volumes to each other just from reading body language and facial expressions. He asked his partner, "What do you mean, chief?"

"You've seen the other recruits - they seem to be kept pretty much separate from each other. They even have separate rooms. I haven't seen anyone else in an arrangement like this."

"Yeah, I noticed that, too."

"Do you have any ideas why that is?" Translation - *Do you think that they know about your Sentinel abilities?*

"Nope. Maybe they found out about your habit for getting into trouble when you're on your own. We wouldn't want to cause an international incident, now would we?" Translation - *No, and until it becomes overwhelmingly obvious that they -do- know, let's not look a gift horse in the mouth, shall we?*

Blair sighed. "I suppose you're right."

Jim smiled in return. "Good. Now could you give me a hand with this computer homework? There's something I'm missing here..."

* * *

One year later...

The cold air whipped around Simon Banks' long trenchcoat as he visited the spot he knew as well as any spot in Cascade. Better, actually. Cascade was no longer home to him, anymore. Sure, he lived in Cascade, and worked in Cascade, but neither his office nor his apartment felt like home to him anymore. If anything, this spot seemed to feel more like home now. He laughed at the semi- philosophical thought that rose unbidden to his mind. [The walking dead among the resting dead...] For without his Sentinel or his Guide or even his son to watch over, Simon Banks could very well be considered the walking dead.

Suddenly feeling very tired, he sat down on the bench that faced the dual headstone and sighed. This place had become his confessional and sanctuary; he came here when the pain of not having them around became too much to bear. He spoke directly to the headstone as if he were sitting on the sofa in their loft. "Joel finally asked for a reassignment today. Said he wanted to go back to the bomb squad. I didn't ask him why - I just signed the transfer papers without a word and sent him on his way. He's the last one from the old squad to leave. I think he was hoping I'd change. Be my old self again."

He tilted his head upward to face the sky and laughed bitterly. "Like that's ever going to happen! Everything I had, heck, everything I -am- somehow got wrapped up in you two and Daryl...and what happens? I lose all of you at once. Diane visits once a week, '...just to check up on me...', or so she says. I think she's really doing it to make sure I'm not taking this out on the new guys. After word got out what I've become, no one in the department wants to transfer to Major Crimes anymore. When anyone leaves, they always replace 'em with a rookie. Can you believe it, Jim? Fifteen years in the department and I'm stuck overseeing a bunch of rookies again. At least they all have the good sense to be scared of me."

Compelled to get up and be closer to their grave, Simon walked over and ran his hands over the special carving of a panther and hawk that he had insisted should be featured prominently on the headstone. No one but himself, Sharon and Diane knew the significance, but those who knew found the symbolism fitting. Swearing to himself, he confessed, "I don't think Major Crimes has solved more than a dozen cases since you..." His voice refused to say 'died', so he continued, now in a pleading tone. "Where are you guys when we need you?"

"They're not here."

Jumping from the shock of hearing another voice in this place, Simon wheeled around to face Sharon, who was now sitting next to -his- spot on the bench. Regaining a minute semblance of composure, Simon exclaimed, "Share, you scared the hell out of me!"

"I know." Sharon took a good look at the devastated man in front of her. It had only been a year, but he looked about as good as she felt, that much was clear. She hadn't been able to face any of them since the funeral - it was too painful a reminder of what that accident caused her to lose. Now, she realized just how much her friends must were suffering, as well. She would have gone to see him at the office, but her news just couldn't wait... "Did you hear what I told you, Simon?"

He nodded, adding bitterly, "I heard, Share, and if you're going to give me some sort of religious mumbo-jumbo about the two of them watching over us from heaven, believe me I've heard it all before."

"That's not what I'm telling you, and you know it, Watcher."

Simon's brow furrowed in confusion as to why she would use the term he hadn't heard used for himself in over a year. Still, as she walked closer to him, Sharon continued to insist, "Search your heart. Go past the grief, Watcher, and you'll see that it's true."

Unable to resist the mystical quality that had been infused into Sharon's command, Simon took a deep breath and tried to retreat deep into his thoughts. It was at that moment that he came to a powerful realization: the reason he continued to come to this place day after day after day was because, deep in his heart, he refused to believe they were dead. He kept coming because he was trying to convince himself that two charred corpses plus a grave equaled death. And in this case, it did - just not the deaths of his Sentinel and Guide. Opening his eyes, he looked over to Sharon with an expression akin to awe. "They're alive, aren't they?" At Sharon's pained nod, Simon asked, "How did you know?"

Sighing, Sharon replied, "I honestly didn't. I didn't want to believe that they were dead, but after the funeral, I forced myself to grieve and get on with what little of my life I could. Diane probably told you that I haven't seen her since the funeral?" At Simon's nod, Sharon continued, "I've pretty much thrown myself into Bureau work full-time. I tried to separate myself from as much of the Cascade PD as possible. I even moved into a tiny little apartment near the Bureau offices-sold my piano and everything. Didn't want anything around me that reminded me of them."

Confused, Simon asked, "So what happened?"

"Jay called me the other day..."

It was 11 am on a Sunday when the phone rudely woke Sharon from a deep slumber. She didn't want to get out of bed - like there was ever a day she did. However, since she sold her answering machine... "What?"

"Share? It's Jay."

"Jay, I finally got to sleep five minutes ago, so I'm hanging up now...goodbye."

"WAIT! I have something you need to hear!"

"Jay, you couldn't possibly-"

"Your Doc Sandburg and his partner are alive."

-That- got her attention. "Go on. I'm listening."

She could practically hear Jay smile over the phone. "Now there's the old Share I know and love! All right, here's the details..."

Looking straight at Simon, Sharon explained, "There's a covert anti-terrorist group called Section One. These guys are deeper than covert black ops - most governments in the world don't even know they exist. Anyway, Jay had been monitoring some of their communications, and he picked up on training reports for an Ellison and Sandburg - Jim and Blair. I believe that this group may be holding them."

"Against their will?"

"Most definitely."

"What about Daryl?"

Sadly, Sharon shook her head. "They're not the type of group to handle deviations to their plans well. More than likely he really was killed in that accident, if they didn't outright kill him themselves. I'm sorry."

As much as that admission added to the grief over the loss of his son, Simon still felt a spark of hope light deep in his heart. Jim and Blair were alive!

That spark of hope, though, warred with confusion over something that Sharon had just told him. "Wait a minute, if this group is so super top-secret, how come you and Jay know about them?"

"Easy. I used to be one of them."

"WHAT?! What do you mean, you used to be one of them?!" Simon was almost numb from the shock. First he found out his two best friends, who he thought were long dead, were probably very much alive and being forced into working covert black ops for a group that more than likely killed his son. Then Sharon tells him she once a member of this group? How could he be sure she still wasn't? How could he trust that she wasn't the one who recommended this group take them in the first place?

Sharon grabbed the older man by the shoulders, working quickly to try and calm him down. Looking around to see if anyone was 'watching', then realizing they were alone, Sharon explained, "Let me start from the beginning. I was labeled as a genius from a very early age. Unfortunately, since I also had a fascination with occult and criminal behavior, I was labeled 'dangerous' as well. My parents found out about a school that was simply called the Academy and sent me there. The teachers there were incredible - gave me the attention I needed so desperately. I excelled in everything - graduated with full honors." Her tone suddenly turned bitter. "Unfortunately, I soon found out what was waiting for the honors students after graduation."

Looking down at his friend, the anger and apprehension Simon felt about the life Sharon had led in the past warred with his instinctive impressions of the expression on Sharon's face. She was...terrified. [First time I've ever seen her with -that- look on her face...] Her eyes never rested in one spot, instead they were constantly looking around like someone was going to come out from behind a tombstone and shoot her before she had a chance to say what she had to say.

Plus, his 'cop hunches', which he was sure had died months ago, were now telling him that she was telling the truth. To be honest, it was the first time he could remember that he had ever heard the enigmatic woman ever talk about her past. Not to mention that he had seen her with Blair enough when the two were together to know that the love between them was obvious, and very, very real. She wouldn't lie about something like this.

In the end, his trust and curiosity won out. Sitting down on the headstone, he asked Sharon, "What happened after graduation, Share?"

"I was 'recruited' into the Section, if you could call it 'recruiting'. Their normal procedure is to take criminals out of prisons and train them to work for the Section. Usually people who nobody would miss if they were gone, if you get my drift?"

When Simon nodded, Sharon continued, "Sometimes, though, they'll take people when they think that they will be of some use to the Section, consequences be damned. Sometimes it's someone who stumbles onto a mission and just won't let go. I actually met one operative in Section who was recruited that way. But a lot of the time, though, the people who are taken are Academy graduates."

"And that's what they did to you?"

Sharon nodded. "Three months after graduation, I was taken right out of my old bed in my parents home. Woke up the next morning in Section."

"And what is this Section again?"

"The toughest anti-terrorism force on the planet. Do you remember Yuri Andropov?"

Grimacing, Simon nodded. "The techno-Sentinel, as Blair liked to call him?"

"If Landers hadn't taken him out, Section would have. As it is, I'm not entirely convinced that Section didn't have a hand in the fact that we never found his body. Simon, their ends are just. They want to take out the terrorist organizations that no one else has the balls to go up against. But the way they do it...Simon, if you get in their way, friend, foe or innocent bystander, they will kill you."

Simon shuddered at the thought. Now he realized why Sharon was much more comfortable using the martial arts in a dangerous situation than she was firing a gun. How much death has she seen? "So how did you get out, Share? You said something about them thinking you're dead?"

Sharon nodded. "I had screwed up during a mission, and another operative died because of it. Section's discipline system is pretty simple: you screw up once, you're placed in abeyance. You don't find a way to save the world sometime after that, and eventually you're canceled - usually by a bullet between the eyes or being sent on a suicide mission. So when I ended up in abeyance, I knew I didn't have much time. You remember Jay, my 'information source'?" Simon nodded, and Sharon continued, "Well, he was one of my best friends outside of Section. Between the two of us, we were able to come up with a pretty good plan."

Simon motioned his encouragement, and Sharon continued, "At the time I was placed in abeyance, Jay was experimenting with android technology. He was able to come up with a drone that looked remarkably like me. We set it up to look like I drove my car over a cliff. Pretty spectacular crash, too. Burst into flames and everything."

"And they bought it?"

"Not entirely. I forgot that the android's skeleton wouldn't melt. Once they couldn't find any human remains to identify, it was a dead giveaway. I moved around a lot those first two years. Jay had found a way to securely monitor all of Section's communications without being detected, so every time he picked up that they were on to where I was, I moved. After a couple of years of this, though, Section seemed to decide that it wasn't worth all the effort to try and catch me. As far as Jay or I can tell, they've left me alone. Within a couple of months after I was 'let off the hook', I moved to Cascade."

Simon shook his head in amazement. No one could tell a story -that- outlandish and seem relatively sane in every other regard. It had to be true. "Does Diane know about this?"

To Simon's surprise, Sharon shook her head. "You're the first person I've told this story to. The only other person who knows everything that went on in my Section days is Jay."

"And why are you telling me this?"

"I would like you to help me break Jim and Blair out of Section."

Straightening up to his full height for what seemed like the first time in months, Simon agreed, "Just tell me what you need me to do."

She hadn't quite expected the police captain to be so, well... Enthusiastic seemed to be the only word to come to Sharon's mind. She had, in fact, expected him to ask for a day or so to think about it. "Do you realize what you're getting into if you agree to this? If we're caught-if we fail in any way, we're most likely dead. And there's a good chance we'll never be able to come back to Cascade again even if we do succeed."

Simon had to fight the urge to laugh. "You're talking about a group that probably killed my son, and is holding my two best friends hostage. I don't - have- a life in Cascade anymore." With a power in his stride that he hadn't had since his Sentinel and Guide were ripped from him, he ordered Sharon, "Let's go."


	4. Chapter 4

To Simon's surprise, Jay did not live in Cascade, but almost an hour's drive away in Tacoma. He spent the drive trying to process the flood of information he had received from Sharon at the cemetery. His mind flashed over events of the past year - fleeting moments where he expected either Jim or Blair to burst through his office door, only to be staring an unknown rookie in the face. Times when he would look at a case file and immediately want to assign it to Jim. It even got to the point where he missed Blair's incessant chatter and constant nervous energy.

By that point, he was convinced his sanity was gone, or at the very least going. He had lost friends before, many of them in the line of duty. And he had always been able to go on. Sure, with a sense of sadness and loss, but that was to be expected, wasn't it? So what was it about losing Jim and Blair that felt like his soul had been ripped out from under him-to the point where the slightest glimmer of hope that they might be alive would have sent him racing to the other side of the moon if necessary?

Part of it, he knew, was that the two men were the last living link to his son. Even if his son was dead, at least finding Jim and Blair might give him that sense of closure he had never been able to find when it came to Daryl's death. Although he continued to try and remind himself of Sharon's warning that Daryl probably did die in the accident, a very, very, small voice inside of him wanted to hold out the hope that somehow, maybe, the life of his son had been spared as well. That he was being held hostage as a way to make the two men behave. No matter how much he rationalized, though, that small voice had resolutely decided not to shut up.

Yet even with that hope, the more he thought about it, the more he realized that the force that drove him to immediately jump into Sharon's scheme without hesitation was his connection to the Sentinel and his Guide. Outside of Sharon and Diane, he was the only person to participate in one of the best-kept secrets in the world. Not to mention the fact that he was an -active- participant in that relationship: he was their Watcher-it was his job to make sure that both of them were at their best. It was their agreement that if anything should happen to either Jim or Blair, Simon would keep the surviving one from eating a bullet.

He laughed bitterly as he realized that -that- was what was probably drove him over the edge. They were the ones he worried about, so when they were both taken from him at the same time, who would be the one to save him from eating a bullet? Everyone probably thought he would have gone on to make sure he could be there for Daryl, but Daryl was gone too. So when Sharon walked up to him and asked him to help her get them back, it was like throwing a drowning man a lifeline: he doesn't argue; he simply grabs it and holds on before the water pulls him under.

The Watcher was pulled out of those thoughts when he noticed Sharon pulling into a driveway. When he gave Sharon a questioning look, she simply responded, "We're here, Simon. C'mon."

Simon was trying to shake the philosophical thoughts from his mind, but one question about the meeting in the cemetery just could not be ignored. As Simon followed Sharon around to the back of the house he asked her, "Share?"

"Yeah, Simon?"

"How did you know that I would know that Blair and Jim were alive?"

Sharon smiled enigmatically. [Man, I'm an -outsider- and I'm more comfortable with the Sentinel-Guide thing than he is!] "You're their Watcher, right?"

Simon agreed, "Yeah?"

"So have you ever heard someone say that if their husband or wife or child died, they would -know-, no matter where or how the other person died?"

Again, Simon agreed, "Yeah?"

"Same principle. You've always been more connected to those two than you'd like to think, Simon."

Simon let out a small chuckle at Sharon's perceptiveness. As he held the screen door open for Sharon to walk through he told her, "I'm beginning to understand that, Share."

Simon had to fight the urge to gawk at the canyon of papers and old computer equipment they were walking through. At the end of said canyon was an office that seemed to look astoundingly similar to Blair's old 'hovel' at the University, with the notable exception of a window. Sitting in the middle of the chaos was a Filipino man who appeared to be roughly Sharon's age. Not looking up from his work, the man glanced in the mirror next to the computer and called out to his friend, "G'day Share! Who's your mate?"

"Jay Cho Keung, Simon Banks, formerly of the Cascade PD. He's going to help me rescue Blair and Jim. Any news?"

"Hang on a minute..."

As Jay typed something into his computer, Simon tapped on Sharon's shoulder and mouthed, "Formerly?"

"In for a penny, in for a pound, Simon," replied Sharon. "While we're here you can call Diane and explain to her what you're doing. She'll understand."

Simon shrugged. "Even if she doesn't, I think she was about a week away from firing me anyway."

Sharon looked up at her friend, her whole being practically radiating empathy. "That bad, huh?"

In response, Simon squeezed the smaller woman's shoulder and sighed. "Yeah."

By this point, Jay found the information he was looking for at his computer, and he called the pair over, "Okay guys, I just got something."

As Sharon and Simon made their way over to stand behind Jay, the techno-geek pulled on a pair of wire-rimmed glasses and announced, "Here's their info..."

Before Jay could launch into details, Simon asked, "First of all, can we check and see if these are really our guys? Do these files have photo shots?"

Turning to look up at the man behind him, Jay shrugged and replied, "Sure." Punching a few keys on the keyboard, he pulled up the photo files on recruits Ellison and Sandburg.

Simon nearly hit the floor when the file photos came up to reveal Jim and Blair, their faces staring back at him as if they had just posed for Cascade PD IDs yesterday. "When were these taken?"

When Jay replied, "Last week, actually," Sharon nearly hit the floor herself. Up until now, she was 90% sure that they were chasing after Jim and Blair, but she had no definite confirmation. Now that she had her definite confirmation, she was suddenly scared out of her mind. Was she willing to risk her freedom, maybe her very life to get them out of there? Thinking back to her tiny apartment in downtown Cascade, she realized that she didn't -have- a life anymore anyway. Regaining her composure, she began to pace the tiny room, trying to formulate a plan of attack. She asked Jay, "How far along are they in their training?"

"Let's see..." As Jay typed furiously, bypassing multiple security systems to access the needed information, his eyes widened in surprise as he read the last report filed on Sharon's friends. "Wow...they're about three months shy of completing their training."

Sharon almost shook her head in disbelief. "You're kidding."

"No-take a look for yourself. Apparently their combined backgrounds gave them quite a leg up on the other recruits-"

Simon cut Jay off. "Wait a second, did you say, -combined- backgrounds?"

Jay nodded. "That's the kicker - their file states that they should be treated as one operative."

Over Jay's head, Sharon and Simon looked at each other with trepidation in their eyes. Does that mean they -know-? Sharon spoke first. "Jay, can you check their file for any mention of heightened senses, or the words Sentinel or Guide?"

If Jay was confused in any way by the request, he didn't show it. Instead, he simply responded, "Hang on just a sec..." After a few tense seconds, Jay came back with, "Nope...those words aren't mentioned anywhere in their records."

Simon and Sharon let out a simultaneous sigh of relief, when Sharon stopped suddenly, exclaiming, "Wait a minute - what if they suspect something?"

Simon thought for a moment, then replied, "I don't think they do. Don't ask me -why- they've kept them together, let's just assume that's going to be the way it stays for now. What next?"

Sharon thought for a moment, then declared, "Well, we can't go in there with what we have now...we need supplies. Jay, know anyone who could get us what we need?"

Jay glared over at his friend, then declared, "Of -course- I do. Go show the man where he can make his phone call. I'll have everything you need lined up in about fifteen minutes."

Smiling, Sharon squeezed his shoulder. "Thanks for your help, buddy."

"Anytime." Turning Simon, he told the former policeman, "Share'll show you where the phone is. I'll see you in a bit."

Simon agreed, "Okay, I'll see you soon. Thanks again for all your help. You don't know how much I appreciate it."

Jay shrugged off the gratitude. "Hey, any friends of Share's are friends of mine. And I do a lot for my friends." Jay then chased the pair off with, "Now will you -go- already?"

Laughing, Sharon led Simon back through the paper canyon to the secured phones.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, the former Federal Profiler and the former Cascade Police captain emerged from the canyon free to the last ties to their old lives. Jay was just getting off the phone as they came in. Hanging up the receiver, he announced, "All right, I just secured us an unmarked van and enough weapons for the three of us to blow up Fort Knox if we needed to. Hope you don't mind, Share, but I used your Geneva account."

Simon turned to his young partner in surprise [this shock thing is getting old fast...] and watched her simply shrug it off with a, "S'ok. That's what the money's there for." Feeling eyes bearing down on her, she turned to Simon and asked him, "What?"

"You have a Swiss Bank account?"

"Where'd you think I put all the revenues from the record?"

Remembering the grand prize deal from the Cascade of Stars show [God, it seems like that was a lifetime ago...], Simon simply mouthed a silent "Oh" and resolved to not let anything surprise him anymore. After today, it would be hard to do anyhow.

Sharon, however, had just received her own surprise when she caught on to the last of Jay's statement. "Wait a second, the -three- of us?"

In response, Jay shrugged. "You don't think I'd let you go back there -alone-, now do you?"

Moved beyond words, Sharon simply ran to her old friend and hugged him fiercely. She knew he was giving up his life for her and her friends. Looking at him with tears in her eyes, she was barely able to choke out, "Thank you."

Wiping the tears away from his friend's eyes, Jay simply replied, "Hey...what would I do for fun without you around anyway?"

[Incorrigible...] Sharon playfully hit him on the shoulder as she slipped out of his arms. Composing herself quickly, she announced to the group, "All right, next is travel and strategy. We have less than three months to figure out where they're going to end up, and how to get them out of Section. And believe me, that time's going to go faster than we'd like. Ready, gentlemen?" When both men nodded confidently, Sharon declared, "Then let's get started."

* * *

It took two days of almost non-stop work, but Jay and Sharon finally felt they had a plan that could work. Looking over the paperwork one more time, Simon peeled the borrowed reading glasses and sighed. He asked his fellow co- conspirators, "You mean I have to -memorize- all this stuff?"

Sharon nodded. "We can't leave any evidence behind - once we pull all these plans together in our minds, we have to incinerate them." Seemingly realizing something important, Sharon got up and paced the small length of the office. Looking over Simon's physical condition, she realized the former police captain probably hadn't seen the inside of a gym in a long time. From behind him Sharon asked, "Simon?"

Trying to concentrate on the floor plans for Section Headquarters, Simon replied, "Hmmmm?"

"When's the last time you worked out?"

Simon looked up from the papers. It had been a long time since he was concerned about whether or not he was in shape.

Sharon took one look at the embarrassed look on Simon's face and almost laughed. Sitting to face him, Sharon confided, "To be perfectly honest, Simon, you're beginning to look like Joel's kid brother." Her tone turning serious, she then told him, "Simon, we're going to be facing an entire armada of trained killers. If we're not in top shape, we won't stand a chance."

Simon sighed again. He knew she was right.

Sharon chuckled in response. Grabbing her friend's hand, she started to drag Simon toward the workout room that Jay kept clear for her. "C'mon. We're got work to do."

* * *

Blair woke immediately, wincing at the piercing alarm that blared through their quarters. Realizing this was some sort of emergency, he instinctively looked to Jim to see what to do, when he realized that Jim had not moved from the bed. He moved quickly to Jim's side and whispered directly in his Sentinel's ears, "Jim man, turn down your hearing. I need you to get up and get moving. Something's up here, and I don't know what's going on."

Shaking away the panic and disorientation from his out-of-control hearing, Jim turned to his partner and asked, "What's going on, chief?"

Blair could only shrug his response until Michael opened the door, carrying two sets of clothing. Seemingly unperturbed by the emergency, he ordered the two men, "Get dressed. Briefing in five minutes."

Shrugging, Sentinel and Guide complied as ordered. Five minutes later they walked to the briefing room and were surprised to find every operative in Section trying to cram themselves into the small space. There were other recruits there, but not many. So what -exactly- was going on?

They soon found out when Operations announced to the group, "All right, people, we have reason to believe that we have uncovered the location of Red Cell's main headquarters." A holographic projection of a mansion's floor plans came up on the screen, and Operations directed, "We have been monitoring Red Cell's communications for the past two months, and finally we were able to trace their origins to a computer room located," he pointed to a red spot on the map as he indicated, "Here."

At that point Birkoff took over. "We have reason to believe that the basement rooms are storehouses for large quantities of chemical weapons. The doors to each of these rooms are rigged top to bottom with laser and infrared motion detectors. According to our intel, all of the higherups within the organization have gathered this weekend to plan strategy for another attack against us."

Operations picked up immediately. "Which is why we're going tonight. Your team leaders have the orders each team will be responsible for carrying out. Recruits, work with the operative who is training you. Any questions?"

Naturally, no one asked any questions, so after a few brief moments of silence, Operations announced to the group, "Very well then. Report to your transports."

As the room dissolved into the organized chaos of the operatives preparing to leave, Jim spotted Michael talking to Operations, across the room from where they were standing. As Jim ushered Blair over to their mentor, the Guide took advantage of the chaos to talk to his partner. Blair spoke low enough that only his Sentinel could hear, "Keep your radar up, Jim. I've got a bad feeling about this one."

Just before they found Michael, Jim replied, sighing, "Me too, chief. Me too."

* * *

They never left the transport for a plane, so wherever they were, Jim found it safe to assume, then, that this Red Cell was not too far from Section's headquarters. They had both been issued standard night-vision goggles along with their regular equipment, goggles which Blair kept, but Jim quickly ditched as soon as it was convenient. The consequences of that, he decided, were something they could deal with later. Mission comes first.

Their team had the toughest assignment: bypass the security systems on the lower level, disable the chemical weapons and attach a transmitter to the mainframe computer so that Birkoff could siphon off their information before they blew the place up. Blair and Jim waited in the shadows for the front line teams to begin the assault.

The castle was surrounded by thick woods that came as close as thirty yards away from the building, so Jim and Blair made their way to that section of the woods to wait and prepare. As soon as they got that close to the building, though, Jim stopped, tilting his head in a way that Blair quickly recognized. The Sentinel was on to something. Placing a hand on Jim's shoulder, Blair leaned in and whispered, "Jim? What is it, man?"

"I hear something. I can tell it's important, but I can't quite pinpoint it."

Automatically Blair slipped into Guide mode. "Deep breaths, Jim. Filter out the noise made by the other teams. Focus on the sound and piggyback your sight so that you can determine the source of the problem."

Jim complied quickly, and, even in the dark, Blair could notice Jim's eyes widening. He whispered to his partner, "Jim? What do you see?"

"Some sort of device, but I can't tell its origins or purpose. I think this is a trap, chief."

"All right, Jim. Scan for any life inside the building."

Jim opened his hearing, trying to catch heartbeats, voices, or breathing inside the castle. "Nothing. It's a trap all right."

Blair let out a deep breath. He whispered to Jim, "Birkoff's detecting life in the building, Jim. Something has to be faking out his systems. Any ideas?"

Jim thought for a moment, then whispered to his partner, "Keep me from zoning, Sandburg." Focusing all his senses in examining the devices on the walls of the castle, he realized what they were: holographic generators that could create fake life signs in the building. He had heard the generated heartbeats, but they sounded fake enough that his Sentinel hearing filtered past them out as noise outside of the castle.

It was the backup security on the system, though, that had him worried. Each device was sending an infrared signal diagonally across the walls of the castle. If any of the walls were disturbed, the device would be triggered, and something would happen. What, Jim didn't know.

His sense of smell was detecting faint traces of something familiar, but he couldn't place it. Could it be coming from the devices? Grabbing his partner's shoulder to prevent himself from zoning, he focused sight, hearing and smell even more closely to one of the devices, and realized what he was smelling.

The bricks around each of the transmitters had been mortared together not with standard building mortar, but with highly concentrated plastique. Scanning each of the devices, he realized that the setup was the same as far as his eyes could see. Any person who got within two feet of the building would set off an explosion that would destroy the compound.

Jim cursed his frustration. Pulling his senses back, he whispered to his partner, "Chief, we've got a big problem here. The walls of that place are one big bomb."

Blair cursed himself in agreement. If someone accidentally tripped one of those sensors, half of Section's operatives could be lost within seconds. If Jim was worried, that meant that whatever he saw was most definitely -not- in Section's intel. He asked, "What do we do, Jim?"

"Wish I knew, Sandburg. Wish I knew."

After a few tense moments, Jim came up with a solution. Michael was a few yards away with an attractive blond woman. They could only assume that she was Michael's partner for his role in the assault - planting the modem device for Birkoff and starting the downloading sequence. Michael was also in a position that the Sentinel could use to his advantage - even though the operative was about ten feet further back from the castle than Jim, the moonlight reflected off the castle in just such a way that one of the triggering devices was just barely noticeable. [Or, at least,] Jim hoped, [It's noticeable enough that Michael might think something's suspicious...I hope.] Over the headsets, Jim asked their mentor, "Michael, I think I can see something suspicious about the walls of the castle. There might be something jamming Birkoff's computers. Can he find some way to compensate for it?"

Unbeknownst to Blair or Jim, Birkoff had been monitoring all communication from the transport and heard Jim's request. Concerned that there might be indeed something he missed, he called out over the headset, "I'm adjusting to try and compensate for any known jamming frequencies..." After a few minute of furious typing Jim heard Birkoff respond, "If this isn't legitimate, then I can't tell how they're doing it."

Coolly, Michael weighed the comments around him and decided, "We'll proceed as planned."

Jim nearly cursed in frustration, knowing that everyone was walking into a trap. Picking up on his friend's frustration, Blair then asked Michael, "Wait! Michael, Alpha team is all from the abeyance pool, right?" [At least, I -think- that's what Jim told me earlier...]

Over the headset, Michael agreed, "That is correct, yes." [How in the -world- did a couple of recruits find out about the fine details of the mission?]

Blair then asked, "What about sending them in earlier than the rest of the teams? If it's a trap, we'll know without risking the lives of every operative here."

"And if it isn't?"

Blair looked over at the conviction in his friend's blue eyes as he silently listened in on the conversation. Hoping that Jim's faith in him was as strong as his faith in Jim, Blair declared over the headset, "Then you can cancel us."

Jim nodded his agreement. He knew, without a doubt, he wasn't wrong. And if they had to sacrifice a few to save everyone, then...so be it.

Michael was surprised by the conviction in young Professor Sandburg's voice. Whatever it was that they saw, apparently they were willing to stake their lives on it. He turned to Nikita for her advice, and the look on her face told him to do what he thought best. Drawing in a deep breath, he let it out slowly and silently, then opened his channel to the other teams and ordered, "Alpha team, proceed. All other teams hold your positions."

Jim let out the breath he had been inadvertently holding. Indicating to Blair to follow his lead, he turned away from the castle and started back toward Michael's position.

Because, even as the castle erupted in flames behind them, taking the members of the Alpha team to a quick and violent end, Jim knew that Michael was going to want an explanation.


	5. Chapter 5

Nikita watched the total destruction of the castle in open-mouthed shock. If they had proceeded as planned, nearly every operative on the mission would have died or been severely injured. This was a definite trap, pure and simple. A trap laid by Red Cell.

That was uncovered by a recruit.

How the -hell- did Jim know what was going on? Even Birkoff couldn't tell it was a trap. And yet Jim had known. She wondered if Jim was part of Red Cell, but if he was, why would he have warned them about the trap? She looked over at Michael, whose face, as always, betrayed no emotion. If he was surprised by what was going on, he wasn't letting her in on it. "Michael?" she asked, "Did you know about this?"

Michael, for all his apparent lack of emotion, was in truth scared speechless. They had almost walked into a giant trap, and only because Ellison saw something... Madeline's description of Brackett's last words hit him full force. Could Lee Brackett possibly have been right? He shook himself away from his thoughts as he realized that Nikita was talking to him. Not turning his eyes from the remains of the burning castle he told his protege, "All will be revealed in time, Nikita."

When he saw Jim and Blair approaching him out of the corner of his eye he repeated, "All will be revealed in time."

* * *

Considering that Operations and Madeline were going to want a full explanation as well, Michael decided to hold off on his questions until after they returned to Section. Sure enough, both Operations and Madeline were waiting for the transport as they arrived. Wordlessly, Michael and Nikita fell in step behind the two Section heads, and Jim and Blair followed behind their mentor. Blair couldn't seem to find a place for his hands, so he finally clasped them together behind him, hoping and praying that his challenge to believe them or cancel them wouldn't end up getting them killed anyway.

The four Operatives filed into Madeline's office and took seats in front of the desk, while Madeline sat down at the desk and Operations began to pace behind her. Finally able to figure out what he wanted to say, Operations stood behind Madeline and coldly asked, "Would anyone like to tell me what the -hell- happened out there tonight?"

Michael was the first to respond. "The castle walls were rigged with explosives. We walked into a trap."

Not good enough. "And there was -no- way you could defuse the bomb?"

To Operation's surprise, it was Jim who answered, "The bombs were keyed into an infrared trigger. If anyone walked within two feet of the device it would detonate the plastique mix that was used as the mortar for the wall sections near each trigger."

Nikita was confused. "Wait a second, if we couldn't get within two feet of those bombs before they blew, how would -you- know their design?"

Jim looked over at Madeline, whom he thought would have been the first one to figure it out by now, if they knew. When he realized that the four Section operatives were still demanding an explanation, it was clear they didn't know. [Guess it's time to let the cat out of the bag...] Sighing, he hoped they wouldn't think him crazy as he answered, "I saw them."

Operations couldn't believe what he was hearing. "You mean to tell me that you saw those triggering devices from thirty yards away in pitch darkness without night-vision goggles? That is the most ridiculous thing I ever-?"

Just before the word 'heard' was about to escape his lips, both Madeline and Operations were hit square in the face by their conversations about Brackett's last words a year earlier. Operations found himself momentarily speechless, and Madeline could only utter in a quiet voice, "Brackett was right about you, wasn't he?"

Jim had heard exactly what she said, and, to be honest, didn't know what to think. "Brackett was one of you?"

"He was actually recruited shortly after your little...incident," replied Madeline, "He didn't mention anything about either of you until just before he died."

Blair had a feeling he knew the answer to this question, but he still asked anyway, "And he died how-?"

Operations replied quickly, "Canceled. For gross insubordination."

[Figures,] thought Blair. Out loud he asked, "So how much do you know?"

Madeline answered him. "Outside of the little incident tonight, very little. Why don't you tell us what's going on here?"

Looking to Jim for encouragement, then turning to Madeline again, Blair explained, "Jim is a Sentinel. Physically, it means all of his senses are heightened at levels far exceeding normal human ability. Psychologically, it is part of his very nature to 'protect his tribe', as it were."

Amazed, Nikita asked, "How heightened are your senses, Jim?"

Deciding a demonstration was in order, Jim directed Nikita and Michael, "Why don't you two go outside these doors and whisper something to each other? Try to keep the conversation brief, though."

Shrugging, Nikita walked out of the room, followed closely by Michael. Once the door had closed, Nikita asked her mentor, "Did you know anything about this, Michael?"

"I had my suspicions when they were first brought in, but I hadn't thought much about it until tonight."

Before they could continue their conversation, though, the door automatically opened, a signal for them to come in. As they sat down again, Jim repeated their brief conversation word-for-word, to both Michael's and Nikita's astonishment. She had spoken so softly that Michael had to strain just to hear her, and apparently Jim had heard her from across the room and through a door made of four-inch-thick steel.

Curious, Madeline then asked Blair, "And what exactly is your role in the scheme of things, Professor?"

"I'm Jim's Guide. I help him control his abilities so that he can he can utilize them to greatest advantage. I'm also a Shaman, and responsible for Jim's health and well-being, particularly since his reactions to things like medications can deviate quite markedly from normal reactions."

"Really? In what way?" asked Madeline.

"Well, one example is that typical over-the-counter pain relievers are pretty much useless to me, so Blair taught me a biofeedback technique to control pain," replied Jim, calmly.

A few tense moments passed as everyone tried to process this information, then Operations asked, "Is there any limit to how far you can stretch your abilities?" Jim shook his head. Seemingly coming to a decision, Operations then ordered the two men, "Very well, then. Considering this new information, I'd like both of you to report to MedLab immediately."

At Jim and Blair's combined looks of confusion and panic, Operations simply continued, "I'd like them to do a full DNA workup on both of you. See what we might be able to learn from a medical standpoint. You're far too valuable in the field to lose you to the idea of being some sort of guinea pig. After that, I'll inform them that you, Sandburg, are to be consulted about any medical care that Ellison here might receive. I'll also allow two hours a day for you to continue to develop your abilities, Ellison, under Madeline's supervision. This will increase your training by six months, but, considering the potential that having such ability brings to the table, I think it is worth the investment. That will be all, gentlemen, you are dismissed."

Jim looked confused, and Madeline picked up on the reaction. "You look like you were expecting something more, Ellison."

"Well, actually, I'm surprised we aren't getting some sort of reprimand for disobeying orders."

Operations tilted his head slightly and warned him, "That's right, you aren't, Ellison. And consider yourself lucky in that regard. Because, if I ever catch you hiding information from us like this again, you'll be in abeyance before you get the chance to tell us the full truth. Is that clear?"

Jim and Blair replied simultaneously, "Yes sir."

Now at least somewhat satisfied, Operations re-ordered them, "Now get out of my sight."

* * *

Blair and Jim left Madeline's office markedly relieved, and Jim knew it could have gone -far- worse. Turning the corner back on the way to MedLab, both men leaned against a wall and sighed audibly. To no one in particular Blair commented, "So now they know."

"Yeah, chief," replied Jim, "It was going to come out sooner or later."

"Is this a good thing, or a bad thing?"

Jim shrugged, "I think that, considering the circumstances, it's a good thing. At least it now gives you a measure of security, because they fully understand how valuable you are in the grand scheme of things."

"I hope so, Jim. I hope so."

* * *

Madeline and Operations were still in Madeline's office, discussing various issues, when Jim and Blair's DNA workups came in hours later. Knowing that Operations wasn't very well-versed in technical science, Madeline looked over the results first. The more she read, the more she began to realize their incredible good fortune at finding someone like Jim Ellison.

Operations couldn't help but notice the look of fascinated surprise on Madeline's face. He asked her, "What's so interesting?"

Madeline explained, "MedLab just came back with the DNA workups on Ellison and Sandburg." Turning the computer so that Operations could look over the report as well, she explained, "Certain sections of our DNA make each of us unique. We know what many of these sections control, but there are many, many more where we have no idea what they do."

"So could MedLab pinpoint the section of DNA that gives Ellison his heightened senses?"

Madeline shook her head. "No, but they -could- pinpoint something else. Take a look at this." Pointing out a section of the report that seemed to graphically replicate two stretched-out strands of DNA, she continued, "These two strands of DNA are supposed to be unique in every individual. They're often used for DNA typing. Even in identical twins and other close relatives, there are slight variations in the chromosome pairs."

Operations encouraged her to continue, "And-?"

"In Ellison and Sandburg, these two strands are identical. According to the MedLab, that shouldn't be possible."

Operations ran a hand through his white hair and absentmindedly scratched the back of his neck. "So what conclusions we can draw from this?"

"We can't replicate Ellison's senses without actually cloning him. The only thing we could actually replicate would be his connection to Sandburg, but I think that would be a fruitless endeavor."

"Course of action?"

"Keep them together, working as a team. If one dies, be it Ellison or Sandburg, the other would be useless to us."

* * *

Sharon was right - three months did go by far faster than Simon would have liked. The good news was that, due to the strict diet and exercise regimen Sharon put him on, Simon felt better than he had in years. Between the marital arts drills and the weapons practice, he felt like he could take on a small army.

The bad news, he knew, was that he was actually preparing to take on a -large- army. A fact which scared the hell out of him.

Teacher and student were facing each other in the workout room, wearing sparring gloves and workout clothes, but outside of that, no other bodily protection. "These aren't the kind of guys you'd normally engage in hand to hand combat," Sharon had said, "But you need to build up your endurance, and be ready for anything."

Those last three words echoed through Simon's mind as Sharon, for the fifteenth time that day, sent him sailing to the floor. [Ready for anything,] he thought, [right.] Noticing Sharon standing above him, waiting to help him off the floor, Simon took advantage of the opportunity, grabbed her legs, and sent -her- crashing to the floor in a matter of seconds.

Surprised, Sharon accepted Simon's help getting up. Pulling her sparring gear off, she complimented her pupil, "Nice shot. Your endurance has gone up considerably since we first started. Let's take a break."

Handing Simon one of the large water bottles that sat next to the training mats, Sharon drew a sip from her own bottle and sighed as she sat down, letting large pops fill the air as she tried to work the tension out of her joints.

After Simon was able to catch his breath, a thought came to mind that he realized he probably should have already asked sometime in the past three months. [Ah well,] he thought idly, [A -few- things did get in the way...] Turning to Sharon he asked her, "So how -did- you meet Jay, anyhow?"

Sharon smiled, and took another long drink of water. She was wondering when that would come up. "Jay had developed a computer code that could decrypt any coded message on the planet. Section wanted the technology, so they sent me in to obtain it. It took me two weeks to gain his confidence, but during that time we became friends. Didn't hurt that he saved my life a couple of times when we were being chased by a terrorist group who wanted the technology."

"Anyway, Section wanted me to eliminate Jay after I obtained the information, but by that point, I didn't have the heart to do it. So I told him about Section and helped him to, for all intents and purposes, disappear. Between the two of us we managed to eliminate all traces of his past life from records around the globe. He offered to help me anytime I needed him after that - which I took him up on after I had been put in abeyance. We've kept in close contact ever since."

Simon was impressed. Both Sharon and Jay had risked their lives to get away from this Section, and now they were risking their lives -again- for his friends. He was honored to be in such courageous company.

Shaking off all the dark memories of the past, Sharon decided to focus on the more important future. "We should be going after them soon. Do you think you're ready?"

Simon shrugged. "I have absolutely no idea. I've memorized those floor plans, and physically, I don't think I've ever been in better shape. But, let's be honest here. If these guys are as powerful as you say they are, do we -really- have enough firepower to go up against them?"

A voice called out behind them, "We do now."

Sharon and Simon wheeled around to see Jay standing in the doorway behind them grinning like an idiot, holding what looked like a cheap toy gun in his hands. Sharon glared at her old friend, knowing he was up to something. Breathing out a warning she called to him, "Jay..."

In response, Jay's smile only grew wider, and he called to his friends, "Come on, I'll show you on the range."

The range, as Jay called it, was a one-booth firing range in the basement, not too far from the workout room they were coming from. As Jay prepared to put a new paper target on the holding clip, he handed Simon the gun, commenting, "Tell me what you think this feels like."

Taking a look at the brightly colored weapon in his hands, Simon felt its weight and whistled, impressed, "It actually feels a bit like a 9mm."

The target now at the end of the available range, Jay replied, "That's because, in a lot of respects, it is." Taking the gun back from Simon, he asked Sharon, "Share, could you do me a favor and move that half-wall of cinder blocks in front of the target for me?"

Confused, Sharon pushed the cart with the half-wall of cinder blocks in front of the target. Coming back to the firing area, Sharon waited for Jay's next move.

Smiling, Jay turned to the wall, and aimed carefully. Preparing for the blast from the shotgun at such close range, Simon and Sharon started to reach for the ear coverings when Jay brought his hands down and stopped them. "You won't need those."

Confused, Simon and Sharon simply watched Jay, then the target as he aimed the weapon and fired. Instead of the loud bang they were expecting though, there was only a slight pop...

...and then the crash of cinder bricks as the bullet traveled clear through the cinder block wall and hit the target on the other side square in the chest.

Beaming with pride over his latest creation, Jay handed the weapon over to Sharon, who was examining it like she would examine a fragile piece of china. He explained to her, "It's a modified semi-automatic 9mm with special bullets. We'll each have three: one with the wall-splitters like these, one with triple- strength tranquilizer darts, and one with cop killer bullets. Each clip holds double the normal compliment, and each gun has its own colorings so you can tell them apart."

The look of surprise on Sharon's face quickly turned into an ear-to-ear grin as she asked Simon, "Think we'll have any problems with firepower now?"

Looking over the gun once again for himself, Simon replied, "Not any more, Share. Not any more."

An insistent beeping interrupted their triumph. Simon and Sharon looked around, surprised at hearing the sound of a pager when neither of them had left the house in three months. The hyperactive device actually belonged to Jay, and he yelped with delight when he realized what the signal meant.

Now confused, Sharon asked, "Jay? What have you got there?"

Looking up from the beeper, Jay exclaimed, "A secure communication line into Section. C'mon."

Jay marched up the stairs and back through 'computer canyon', as they were now affectionately calling it, his bewildered cohorts trailing behind him. Once everyone was in the room, Jay explained, "I knew we couldn't plan any sort of escape without finding a secure way to get a message through to Blair or Jim- that's what I've been working on while you've been pounding Watcher-boy here into shape, Share."

As Sharon rolled her eyes, Jay continued, "Anyway, I worked on trying to monitor who was logged on to the system and where they logged on from, to see if I could figure out who was Jim and who was Blair. It took some doing to cross-check the computer logins with the directory, particularly since most of the directory is so secure that -I- can't even get into it, but I was able to finally find a way to cross-check the logins with the status reports of the recruits. I set a temporary program in motion to do it and beep me when we got a match."

The anticipation building in her eyes, Sharon asked, "And you just got a match?"

Jay nodded excitedly. "Sandburg. I figured we should focus on his login since you would probably find a way to convince him it was you."

Sharon grinned wickedly in response. [Oh, I could definitely find a way...] "So is he logged on now?"

Jay nodded. "And considering the patterns of his computer time, he should be on for at least another hour or so."

"And this is a two-way communication? He can respond back to us?" Again, Jay nodded.

Sharon worked furiously to push her nervousness to the back of her mind as she focused on the task at hand. "So how long a message can we send at one time?"


	6. Chapter 6

Working on his Sentinel notes was always a difficult thing for Blair - it had been ever since their 'new life' in Section began. Jim had consciously repressed most of his abilities almost from the time they had been taken, so the idea of 'expanding' on his talents was almost completely brushed aside in favor of keeping his secret a secret.

And now that Section knew about Jim's abilities, it made things all the more difficult. Every piece of information they had given Section about Jim's heightened senses led them to think that the senses were an asset, a weapon that could be used readily and indiscriminately as needed. If they ever found out about the zone-outs, or the possible ramifications of a food allergy, or losing his senses to an overload, then Section probably wouldn't hesitate to cancel - both- of them, heightened senses or not.

It was hard to get the results of MedLab's DNA tests out of his mind. Part of him was floored by the idea that he and Jim could actually be -genetically- linked. He wasn't a big believer in destiny, but there was something about the medical results that even the doctors in MedLab found too unusual to ignore. So what did it mean as a benefit to their partnership? No one knew, but Blair was determined to find out.

The one thing Blair -was- sure of, though, was the fact that Madeline released those test results to him constituted a warning. [Screw up, Sandburg,] his mental voice kept telling him, [and you and Jim are -both- dead.]

So he had taken to writing his journal in cryptic notes that would be almost impossible for anyone else to decipher, should they be so inclined. Typing furiously, he -almost- didn't notice the two-line partition creeping up on the bottom of his screen. [What the-?] His first thought was that maybe there was a computer malfunction, and he started to push his chair away from the computer to go talk to Birkoff when a message started to scroll across the bottom of the screen:

"...There's a saying old, says that love is blind...Still we're often told, seek and you will find..."

Memories of a certain song and a certain singer who was supposed to have long ago given him up for dead came flooding back to his mind. Blair shook his head to clear his vision. He -had- to be seeing things.

Another line to the song came on the screen:

"...So I'll seek a certain lad I've had in mind..."

Then a message scrolled across the bottom of the screen:

"...Is this the computer for a certain Shaman I used to know?"

Blair wanted to call Jim over to see this, but he didn't want to run the risk of being overheard by anyone watching the security tapes of his room. So when the computer posted a "?" prompt at the double line, Blair typed in:

"...Is that you, Tiger?"

* * *

At the end of 'computer canyon', Sharon yelped with delight, unable to contain her excitement. Confused, Simon asked her, "Share?"

Sharon started babbling, "Simon, only Blair would know that pet name for me. It's based on one of the animals I've studied in karate. He didn't even tell it to Jim...he only used it when we were alone. It's them, Simon! It's them! It has to be!" She nearly pushed Jay to the floor trying to get to the computer, typing as fast as she could get her hands to fulfill her heart's wishes:

"...Yeah, sweetheart, it's me..."

* * *

Blair could barely contain his excitement. He did his best to carefully control his physical reactions, but he was -sure- that Jim could hear his heart beating a mile a minute. True to form, he watched the reflection in the computer screen as his Sentinel woke up from a nap, the concern evident on his face as he tried to figure out what it was that was getting his friend so worked up. [Please Jim,] he thought, [just take a look at the computer screen...]

As if Jim had been reading his mind, he watched in reflection as Jim got up and walked behind him, peering over his shoulder just as a new message came in:

"...Is the panther with you?..."

The panther. A reference to Jim's spirit guide and the team's protector. Not a reference that Section would have understood, should they be monitoring. Blair typed in an affirmative response, and was rewarded with an exciting, but confusing challenge:

"...How would the two of you like to get out of Section?..."

* * *

Operations squeezed Madeline's shoulder as he walked in late to their customary breakfast meeting. Looking over that shoulder, he realized that she was going over Jim Ellison's file for what had to be the fifth time since they had found out about the man's heightened senses a week earlier. Sighing loud enough to show his displeasure, Operations exclaimed, "How many times are you going to go over that file? Madeline, you couldn't possibly have known that the Brackett's fantastic claims were nothing more than the ravings of a madman."

Sipping her coffee, Madeline calmly replied, "Marcus, we are in the business of dealing daily with claims the world would find fantastic, a fact that I didn't think I needed to remind you of. However, that's not the reason I'm looking over these files."

Curious, Operations questioned her as he sat down to his own breakfast, "Really? Has something happened that I should know about?"

Madeline shook her head. Thinking out loud, she continued, "No. There's just something about this that I'm missing..." Looking at the photo of Ellison and Sandburg's funeral, that 'missing something' finally clicked in her mind. Something about the blond-haired woman standing with the families at the head of the caskets seemed uncannily familiar... Punching a button at the side of the table she opened an intercom line to Birkoff, who she had passed on her way to her office, "Birkoff, I'd like you to run a check on a Sharon Driver for me. Last known location Cascade, Washington. Check first with the FBI personnel database."

Birkoff's reply came over the intercom, "Accessing..."

In the next few moments of silence Operations had little time to do more than raise a curious eyebrow before Birkoff came over the intercom with a response to Madeline's request. "I've found some information on Sharon Driver."

Madeline nodded, replying, "Go on."

"On the surface, everything checks out. However, I did some digging, and I found that a lot of the information in her file is bogus. The school her high school diploma is supposedly from doesn't exist, a lot of the companies she says she worked for before the Bureau went belly-up before her supposed dates of employment, things along those lines."

Madeline commented, "So her background makes her out to possibly be more than she is."

"That's correct. I tried to link up her picture with any known terrorist groups but came up with nothing. If she's a player, she's very new to the game."

Madeline smiled, oblivious to Operations' increasingly curious stares. With her listed skills and reputation from within the Bureau as listed in the personnel files she was reading from her terminal, she definitely was -not- a player in the game. In fact, there was only one person she could be. "Do we have a current location on Ms. Driver?"

"Negative," was the response over the intercom. "Three months ago she resigned from the FBI and dropped off the face of the Earth. We have no records on her past her resignation letter."

[Interesting,] thought Madeline. "Did anyone else in Cascade law enforcement 'disappear' around that time?"

"I'm checking..." After a few quiet moments, Birkoff replied over the intercom, "Captain Simon Banks of the Cascade Police Department resigned on the same day and has not been heard from since. His ex-wife reported him as missing a week later."

Politely, Madeline closed the intercom connection. "Thank you, Birkoff."

Once Operations was certain the intercom connection was closed, he asked Madeline, "So who exactly do you think she is?"

"Do you remember our first Josephine?"

"Your protege? Hard to forget."

"Let's just say I'm beginning to think the reports of her death were greatly exaggerated."

Operations nearly spit his coffee out over the table. "You can't possibly be serious. How would she have eluded us all these years?" As much as he understood he would probably have to cancel the woman the minute they got a location on her, it didn't hold down his curiosity as to how she managed to get away from Section's prying eye for so long. The dream of escape was something that, to his knowledge, had never been done before, but which every Section operative probably fantasized about at one point or another. If -she- had managed to do it, what's to say that someone else hadn't done it as well?

As Madeline took a small bite of her English muffin she replied, "I have a feeling we're going to get a chance to ask her that question ourselves."

"Really?" exclaimed Operations. Before he could ask how, he was able to put two and two together on his own. -That- was the reason why Madeline had asked if anyone else in law enforcement had disappeared within that timeframe. And the name that Birkoff had come up with was now coming back to him as well - Simon Banks was Daryl Banks' father, as well as Ellison and Sandburg's superior when they were working for the Cascade PD. Wanting to confirm his own suspicions, he asked Madeline, "How did you find out about this Sharon Driver, anyway?"

Handing him the pictures from Ellison and Sandburg's dual funeral, Madeline replied, "She is the blond woman standing with the families at the head of the caskets. I believe she may have been romantically involved with Professor Sandburg."

[So she knows Ellison and Sandburg...] thought Operations.

Madeline voiced the thought that was going through both of their minds. "I think that Josephine and our older Mr. Banks are going to try and stage a rescue attempt to liberate Ellison and Sandburg from Section."

"When?"

"I'm not sure. A lot will depend on where they've gotten their intel from. If Josephine is going on the standard two-year training timeframe, then Ellison and Sandburg will both graduate three months earlier than she will be expecting."

"So if we haven't seen her by the time they graduate," picked up Operations, "she may be staging a rescue to liberate men who won't be here. Any suggestions?"

"According to the Professor's reports, Ellison's abilities are tested far more effectively in the field than they could be in a lab. I believe we should give them what they're looking for."

"An early graduation?"

Solemnly, Madeline nodded. "They are ready, after all. And this way, we will be ready for Josephine as well."

* * *

The beep and whirring of a modem line coming to life brought Jay out of a sound sleep; the first one he had been able to have in the three months since he found out about Jim and Blair's descent into Section. He had never met them; never even seen them except in pictures, and yet he was risking his life to get them out of Section. But would he do it again? If Sharon asked him...absolutely. She saved him from them once - it was the least he could do to help her save someone else. But right now that wasn't the main thing on his mind.

The main thing on his mind was finding out what was so important that his computer was waking him up at three in the morning.

Bleary-eyed and slightly disoriented, Jay stumbled over to the computer and turned on the monitor. Reading the incoming information, Jay cursed in frustration and called out to his best friend, "Share! We've got trouble!"

Running through the canyon, Sharon asked Jay, "What is it, Jay?"

Turning to notice Simon quickly following behind Sharon, Jay told the team, "I set the computer to monitor all Section communications pertaining to Jim and Blair. This e-mail was just sent through Section channels." As Sharon and Simon moved to look over Jay's shoulder he read:

To: Michael From: Operations Re: Ellison and Sandburg

Since their training is complete and their talents would be best served in the field, I have an assignment for them. Please meet me in my office at 0800 tomorrow to discuss the mission profile.

Her face sagging with concern, Sharon sighed deeply and started pacing the room. Out loud she mused, "They're graduating early..." Muttering curses under her breath to try and work out her frustration, she asked Jay, "Do we have any mission profiles on file where they're listed as team members?"

Turning back to his computer, Jay replied, "I'll check..." Noticing the extensive list of files that just came up on the screen, he hit his hand on the table, expressing his own frustration, and he exclaimed, "I can't believe that I didn't see these sooner!"

Trying to calm Jay down he asked, "What are they, Jay?"

"Top-level files on Ellison and Sandburg. Dozens of them..." When he examined the files further he realized, "They're encoded...no wonder I couldn't get them on the first pass." Running his decryption program, he started to read the first file out loud. "Three months ago they were sent out on some big mission against a group they call Red Cell."

Sharon's eyes went wide. "As recruits?"

"Apparently. The top recruits and every active operative went to storm some castle. Apparently it was a trap...only Alpha team was lost, and they were all in abeyance anyway...wow."

Simon was beginning to get a bad feeling about this. "What do you mean, wow?"

"It seems that Ellison was the one who discovered it was a trap. The whole place had been rigged as a super-sophisticated bomb. Ellison uncovered the whole thing from thirty yards away - and he had refused night-vision goggles at the start of the mission."

Above Jay's head, Simon and Sharon looked at each other with obvious trepidation. Section knew. In Sharon's mind, that made the next question: how -much- did they know? Jim and Blair probably would have told them about Jim's Sentinel abilities after the mission, which allowed Blair the modicum of protection they thought he didn't have. But what else did they know? Had they found her? Were they setting a trap for her because they knew of her past involvement with Blair? Did they know that Blair and Sharon had been in communication?

Simon took one look at Sharon's expressive face and could immediately tell that a million and one things were running through Sharon's mind - none of them good. This could not possibly bode well for the outcome of their mission. Fear lacing the edges of his voice, Simon asked Sharon, "How much does this change our plans, Share?"

"Depends," mused Sharon out loud. Turning to Jay, she asked her old friend, "Jay, how secure was that line you got us into Section the other day?"

Looking up at her, Jay replied, "If I were trying to break into that connection from an outside terminal I couldn't have done it. Why?"

Sharon could tell that her old friend was trying to keep from taking that as an insult, and squeezed his shoulder in response. Tilting her face down to lock eyes with Jay, she smiled warmly, reassuring him, "I believe you. I just need to figure out how much Section knows."

Turning back to his computer, Jay started to type, commenting to the two behind him, "I'll see if I can get the mission profile off of Operations' computer..." Reading something coming in off the screen, he told the two behind him, "Got it. He must have just filed it before sending that e-mail. The mission seems simple enough: a retrieval of two women who are working on some sort of biological weapon."

"Retrieval?" asked Simon, "What does that entail?"

"Sending in a Section Operative to gain the trust of the target, then bring them into the Section for questioning."

"Why don't they just kidnap the person?"

"Depending on the person, it might cause too many unanswerable questions."

Simon shrugged it off. Sometimes he had to remember that he had very little idea of what was -really- going on here. "Oh."

Sharon, on the other hand, already had her mind on other things. "Do we have a location?"

Jay sent something from his screen to the printer. "Got it."

"I'll work on changing our flight plans." Seemingly realizing something for the first time, Sharon broke into a small smile. "Relax, gentlemen. This may be easier than I thought."

* * *

Blair sipped his champagne, fidgeting uncomfortably. The damp humidity of the mid-Spring evening was oppressive even for South Beach. And his uneasiness about this mission wasn't making things any easier to deal with. Less than two weeks ago he and Jim had been told that they would be in training for the next six months developing Jim's abilities, and all of a sudden they're put on their first mission where they're the primaries? Something about that just didn't sit right.

Perhaps it was because of their 'single-op' status. Normally they would have had to have two operatives as primary on a mission like this. No - that would be too easy of an explanation, and one thing he knew about Section was that there was no such thing as an easy answer. They could easily have sent two operatives on this mission; it certainly didn't call for someone with Jim's unique 'gifts'.

His breath caught in his throat as another possibility came to mind. Was this a trap? Did they know about his communications with Sharon? They had been flown out of Section so fast that he hadn't had time to let Sharon know they would be away. She seemed to always know when he was on the computer, so the chance of her initiating with someone else unknowingly didn't seem likely, but he couldn't be sure what type of equipment she had on her end.

He idly wondered how Sharon seemed to know so much about Section. Could it not have been Sharon at all, but a trap to see where their loyalties lie? That thought was immediately dashed - Section wouldn't have known about 'their song'.

His 'target', a beautiful brunette named Nathalie Martique, came up to him and whispered in his ear, "Is something wrong, my darling? You look troubled."

Trying his best to cover his apprehensions and look flirtatious, he wrapped an arm around her waist and purred in her ear, "Nothing you should be troubled with, my dear. Shall we dance?"

The distraction seemed to work, for Nathalie returned Blair's warm smile and allowed herself to be led onto the dance floor. Scanning the room, he saw Jim walk Nathalie's partner, a tall, leggy blond by the name of Marianna Casanoff onto the floor as well. Then his breath caught in his throat as he caught a glimpse of the tall black man who was walking out to the lawn where the party was being held. His was a face Blair thought he would never see again.

* * *

Simon pretended to adjust the cuffs on his tuxedo, while in reality he was speaking into his comm-link to Sharon, who was on the other side of the grounds. "Watcher in position. Have the Guide in my sights. How're you doing, 'Tiger'?"

* * *

Near the reflecting pool on the other side of the grounds, a beautiful blond fidgeted with her earrings and seemed to whisper into her bracelet, "Watch how you say that, Simon. If Blair ever knew..."

In her earpiece she could hear the former police captain chuckle slightly, replying, "You know he'll probably find out anyway, Share. Any sign of the Sentinel?"

[You mean he can't hear my racing heartbeat?] She thought as she tried to hide her nervousness while at the same time scanning the room. Locking eyes for a split second with Jim as he led his 'target' around the dance floor, she whispered her confirmation, "I've got him, Watcher. Any sign of the Empire, Obi Wan?"

* * *

From a small toolshed on the grounds of the house next door, Jay looked over his carefully placed surveillance monitors and replied, "Clear from my end, Tiger."

* * *

She acknowledged, announcing to the group, "Very well, then. Initiating contact." Crossing from the pool to the dance floor, the other partygoers around her cleared out of her way, subconsciously realizing that this woman had only one thing on her mind - or rather, one person.

Reaching that person, she let out in an excited squeal, "Stinky?! Stinky Ellison, is that really you?!"

Having recognized Sharon when he spotted her near the reflecting pool, Jim had had enough time to get over the surprise and prepare for whatever act Sharon wanted to try. Faking confusion, he asked her, "I'm sorry, Miss. Should I know you from somewhere?"

"My goodness, gracious me," Sharon drawled, faking a strong Southern accent, "You don't remember me? It's me! Mary Jo Baker from Spring Valley, Oklahoma? Don't tell me you don't remember me from high school, ya big lug!" Rudely barging her way in between Jim and his target, she proclaimed, "Excuse me, Missy, but you don't mind if I cut in here, do ya? So I can talk to my old friend? I promise I'll give him back to ya."

Jim faked exasperation well. Rolling his eyes, he forcefully grabbed her by the arm, declaring, "May I speak to you alone, -please-?" His tone turning markedly warmer, he then cooed seductively to the target, "Marianna, darling, I'll be right back. Wait here for me, won't you?"

Smiling seductively in response, Marianna kissed him on the cheek, purring into his ears, "Of course, William. After all, I don't have any intentions of leaving here alone tonight."

Jim smiled, knowing that Section was listening. In her ear, he replied, "Oh, I'm counting on that." He then grabbed Sharon by the arm in a hold that Sharon was able to forcibly break herself out of, but still allow her to be led to a spot away from Marianna.

Once he had assured them privacy from at least one set of prying eyes, Jim told Sharon, "Look miss, I don't know who you are or what you're doing here, but I'd really appreciate it if you left us alone. You're cutting in on a very important business deal here." [Section business, true, but still...]

Sharon threw her head back and laughed like Jim had just cracked the funniest joke in history. "Oh, Stinky, I'm surprised at you! I thought we knew each other better than that." Reaching up in a move that looked like she was playing with Jim's short hair, the Sentinel felt her stick a tiny device just behind his left ear. As she took her hand away from his face, he felt a slight tingle. Looking down at his old friend in confusion, she simply replied, "A little jamming device. It should give us some time to talk away from Section's prying ears."

Now able to get down to business, Jim asked Sharon, "What are you doing here?"

"Getting you out of Section, Jim, like I promised."

"You know Section's watching as well as listening."

Sharon grinned wickedly. "Yes, but by the time they've realized what's happened we'll be long gone. Now c'mon."

With Sharon pulling him back toward Marianna, Jim stopped her abruptly and asked, "Wait, what about Blair?"

Sharon simply winked in response. "He should be with a mutual friend of ours."

Surprised by Sharon's statement, Jim focused his hearing in on Blair, wondering who it was that was with him. When he heard the voice of their 'mutual friend', he nearly zoned on it.


	7. Chapter 7

Blair worked very hard to control his reactions as the man who was either Captain Simon Banks or an incredibly close lookalike came walking toward him. Regaining his composure just enough to be able to actually speak to the man, Blair asked him, "Can I help you?"

Calmly, Simon replied, "There is an urgent phone call for you, sir, in the main house. If you will come with me, please."

Playing along, Blair sighed loudly, replying, "Oh, all right." He then kissed Nathalie on the cheek, promising her, "I'll be right back, love. Wait for me?"

Smiling, Nathalie encouraged, "Always, ma cher. Always."

Turning away from the beautiful woman, Blair followed Simon away from the party. The older man brushed his hand against the younger man's shoulder, planting the jamming device. Now able to relax, Simon whispered to Blair, "Okay, that should do it. We can talk freely now."

Automatically taking his cue from his former Watcher, Blair exclaimed, "Simon? What are you doing here?!"

Simon smiled in response. "Just performing one of my Watcher duties, Sandburg. Getting you and your partner out of trouble. And trouble, in this case, has taken the form of Section One."

* * *

In the van, Birkoff was frantic. Moments after what seemed to be confinable contact, both Ellison and Sandburg had been breached, their comm frequencies jammed, their whereabouts disappearing from his surveillance view. He was going to pay for this one, that much was certain. Finally unable to compensate for the problems he was having, he contacted Michael and Nikita, who were running backup for this mission, "Michael, we've been breached. Someone's taken both Ellison and Sandburg."

Calmly, he heard Michael reply over their comm link, "They can't have gone far. Beta team, move in and secure the packages. Nikita and I will contain the breach."

* * *

At the party, Michael and Nikita moved discretely in the background, Nikita praying at every moment that Jim's 'super-hearing' wouldn't be able to pinpoint their every move. Both she and Michael had been briefed on the possibility of an outside attempt to contact Ellison and Sandburg, and their orders were to bring back for questioning anyone that did successfully make contact.

Walking toward the main area of the party, it wasn't hard for the operatives to spot the two rookies and their outside contacts. Linking arms with Nikita, Michael whispered into her ear, "We'll split up. I'll rendezvous with Ellison, you catch up with Sandburg."

His only response from Nikita was a barely perceptible nod as she went off in search of her target. Once he had assured himself that Nikita was on her way to intercepting Sandburg, he quietly made his way through the crowd, Ellison always in his sights. Michael hoped his ability to get lost in a crowd while still following his target still applied to a man, who, when he concentrated, could hear the heartbeat of the person following him.

Apparently, though, either the Gods or his talents were with him tonight, because he was able to take Ellison completely by surprise, if the startled look on the man's face was any indication as he turned around, asking his mentor, "Michael? What are you doing here?"

Trying to sound charming, he shrugged, replying, "I just wanted to come by and meet your friend." Turning to the beautiful blond who had been just moments earlier, been trying to help Jim escape to his freedom, Michael gazed at her as he told Jim, "I believe we have a lot of mutual friends in common."

Bitterly, Sharon spat out, "I'd hardly call them friends."

"Nevertheless," continued Michael, "I'd be remiss if I didn't come by and at least say hello to you, Miss Driver." Bending down to kiss her hand, he looked up and added, "Or should I call you Josephine?"

Not waiting for an answer, Michael's tone immediately turned serious as he told Jim, "Beta team has secured the packages. We are to return to base immediately." Turning his attention to Sharon, he ordered her, "You will come with us."

Sharon rolled her eyes. She should have known that the place would be crawling with undercover Section operatives. This was, after all, a first mission - Sentinel and Guide or not. Her voice dripping with sarcasm, she turned to Jim and asked him, "Well with an offer like that, how could I possibly refuse?"

Jim fidgeted nervously. He just hoped Simon and his guide got away safely.

* * *

Blair and Simon had almost made it to the main house when Nikita intercepted them. "Blair, darling, what a surprise to see you here!"

Startled, Blair could barely stammer out, "N-N-Nikita? What are you doing here?"

Acting completely casual, Nikita replied, "Just enjoying the party, Blair." Turning to the tall black man who was standing almost protectively behind Sandburg, Nikita asked Blair, "So who's your friend?"

Simon answered for himself, "Simon Banks. Nice to meet you." Turning to Blair, he tried to continue the reuse, "Blair, your phone call?"

It took a minute for Nikita to regain her composure. -This- was Daryl's father? She could already tell where her adopted 'son' got his good looks and a lot of his stubbornness. Turning back to Simon, she addressed him directly, "Well, Captain Banks, this makes it even more likely that you'll want to come back with Blair and I."

Trying not to sound sarcastic, Simon pointed the tranq dart gun at Nikita and asked her, "Oh really? And why is that, exactly?"

"Because I know where your son is."

Simon had to use every available energy reserve in his body to remain standing. "He's -alive-?"

Nikita simply nodded in response. "If you'll come with me, please."

* * *

The ride back in the van was far too quiet. Both Simon and Sharon seemed to be contemplating their failed mission, while both Blair and Jim seemed to be contemplating the fact that they just sentenced themselves and their friends to a likely cancellation at the hands of Section. Nikita winced at the thought, hoping that, should the two have to die, their deaths would be quick and painless and not at the hands of, oh, say, Madeline. She understood why Banks would go after his two friends from Cascade, but who was the blond? The question was itching at the back of her mind, so she asked her mentor, "Michael?"

"Yes, Nikita?"

Tilting her head so that Michael would know whom she was referring to, Nikita asked him, "Who's she?"

Michael leaned his head against the back of the van and sighed. Jurgen was gone, so outside of Madeline and Operations, he was the only one who knew the full story. And he had no desire to let Nikita hear anything but the truth. The rumors were bound to start flying the minute they returned to Section anyway. Seeing that Nikita was still waiting for an answer, Michael closed his eyes and admitted, "She's your namesake, Nikita."

Nikita's brow furrowed in confusion. "My namesake?" she thought aloud. "I don't understa-"

Then it hit her. The other woman had to have been, at one point, a Section operative. Codename Josephine. Which meant that, until a few moments ago, she had been free. Something that no other Section operative, save her, had ever been able to accomplish, as far as she knew. Nikita had gone back voluntarily because of her love for Michael, so, she wondered, what was -her- story? Michael seemed to have a resigned look on his face, like he did the night before he had gone after his old friend Rene. Curious, Nikita asked, "Do you know her, Michael?"

Michael shook his head. "Only by reputation. She was Jurgen's first trainee. I was training with him when she disappeared. It almost killed him. There were days that he would work me ruthlessly, other days he would be distant, and it seemed his attention was elsewhere. Eventually things relaxed, and Jurgen became the man that you knew. But I know she held a place in Jurgen's heart until the day he died."

"They were lovers?" Michael nodded.

It wasn't often that Nikita had heard Michael speak in such romantic terms. "Is that why you gave me the codename Josephine?"

Michael nodded. "I had heard so many stories about her from Jurgen that when you came along, it seemed you could have been sisters. I thought it fitting."

[Especially since we've both tasted freedom,] she thought ironically. But Nikita came back because she couldn't handle it. Looking over at her namesake, it was clear that she had been able to handle things on the outside quite well. So why did -she- risk her freedom on such a crazy stunt? And how did she remain free for so long without Section catching up with her? It had to have driven Operations crazy. "So what's going to happen to her now?"

For the first time since he led Sharon back to the van, Michael stole an opportunity to look at the woman he had, to this point, only known as a legend. "No one knows, Nikita. No one knows."

* * *

The sterile white walls of the interrogation room were just as intimidating as Sharon remembered them to be. Only this time, -she- was the one strapped into the chair and her former mentor, Madeline, was the one pacing the room. Sharon couldn't help it - the first thought that passed through her mind was, [The more things change...]

Such idle thoughts were interrupted by Madeline's first words of greeting. "Hello, Arianna. Or should I call you Sharon?"

"Sharon, please - I gave up Arianna a lifetime ago." The cold steel of her voice could not hide the slightest hint of bitter rage in her voice. She had been free once, and once again, Section had taken that from her, along with the first people she had ever had the chance to call friends.

Nodding slightly in acknowledgement of Sharon's response, Madeline continued, "I see. It's been a long time, Sharon."

Blue eyes locking on brown, Sharon never let her gaze waiver. "Yes, it -has-, hasn't it?"

Unfazed, Madeline simply continued, "The setup you used to try and fool us was quite impressive."

"But you weren't fooled."

Madeline allowed her gaze to break from Sharon's for the briefest of moments as she started to circle the room. "No, Sharon. We weren't fooled. But then you disappeared on us."

Sharon couldn't resist smirking. "Yes, I always wondered why you gave up on trying to find me."

Madeline stopped just behind Sharon, and the ex-operative could feel her mentor's breath in her ear. "We never give up, Sharon. You of all people should know that." Raising herself back to her full height, Madeline continued, "Would you like to know how we found you, Sharon?"

Sharon simply glared back in response. She already knew how the had found her - the minute she was pushed into the van she realized that they had probably taken pictures of her at Jim and Blair's 'funeral'. So when she went to the funeral, thinking only of comforting her best friends' friends and family, she was sealing her own death warrant. From that point on, it had only been a matter of time...she cursed herself out mentally for being so lax on her personal security after all these years. She knew better.

Madeline stopped circling Sharon when she was directly facing the younger woman once again. In a move that Sharon thought was uncharacteristic for her mentor, the older woman got down in front of her and asked her sincerely, "You had your freedom, Sharon. We would have left you alone. Why did you take such a tremendous risk?"

Sharon easily read the sincerity in Madeline's eyes, and decided to answer her with equal sincerity. All of the loyalty, anger, love, fear and hope she had felt from the moment she found out that Jim and Blair were alive could be summed up in the four simple words she used to reply to Madeline: "Because they - deserve- better."

[So she knows,] thought Madeline.

Not skipping a beat, Sharon's voice became laced with bitter sarcasm as she asked Madeline, "So are they still okay, or have you locked them up like a couple of lab animals now that their security's been compromised?"

Madeline raised a curious eyebrow. "Really? Is their security still an issue, Sharon?"

[Uh oh.] Sharon mentally cursed herself out that she believed for even a moment that Madeline was capable of sincerity. And now she's slipped up, putting Jay's life on the line in the process. For the first time since she had entered that white room, Sharon broke her concentrated focus on Madeline to let her eyes wander the room restlessly.

Madeline noted the change in Sharon's behavior, and took it as a sign of weakening defenses. Pulling down to whisper in Sharon's ear, the older profiler started to go 'fishing'. "Who's been helping you, Sharon?"

Sharon flinched at the sound of Madeline's voice and at the question she asked. Not letting up her assault, Madeline continued to voice her thoughts out loud, intent on reading Sharon's reactions. "Let's see, you know about Jim and Blair's mission, so whoever it was had to have knowledge of how to use our computer system?" No response.

"Or how to bypass our security precautions?" *wince* [Score one.] Madeline raised an eyebrow and continued, "You knew how to quickly and discretely disable our tracking devices, so he had to have some talent in acquiring new technologies?" No response.

"Building new technologies?" *wince* [Score two.]

Kneeling down next to Sharon, Madeline moved in for the kill. "You know we know about Jim, don't you?"

Sharon turned her head away, and Madeline knew she had just gotten an important piece of information from her counterpart. "Those files are top-level security encrypted...thank you, Sharon. You've been most helpful."

Sharon could no longer look her former mentor in the eye. She had just put Jay's life in grave danger - and more than likely sentenced him to die. Her voice barely above a whisper, Sharon asked, to Madeline only because she was the only other person in the room, "Am I dead?"

"Not yet," replied Madeline. "Many people believe the talents you possess would be a great asset to our organization. We've decided to give you a chance to prove your loyalty to the Section. If you are able to do so, then you will undergo retraining..."

A piercing alarm went off before Madeline could continue. Curious as to what the emergency was, the profiler walked to the door just as a runner was about to buzz himself in. The minute the door opened, Madeline did not have a chance to speak before the runner informed her, "Operations sent me to get you. Red Cell has just attacked the Academy."

* * *

To Sharon's surprise, Operations was not in the center of the chaos in the briefing room - Michael was. As she glanced over to see Operations pacing in his office, she wondered exactly how -much- things had changed since she had been gone. It sounded like Operations was still in charge of things, so why wasn't he here? Was Michael the new Operations? Or simply his successor, being given a 'test' of his own? And why were they still keeping her alive? Before they had left the interrogation cell, Madeline slapped an electronic bracelet of some sort on her wrist, but, for now, she wouldn't say what the bracelet was for. What was going on here?

Looking around the room, she saw very few operatives she knew, which wasn't surprising considering an operative's usually short life span. She did, however, see Simon sitting at the far end of the room, escorted by the blond woman from the van and wearing a carbon copy of the electronic bracelet Madeline had given her. Jim and Blair were sitting at the main table, under Michael's careful scrutiny.

Surrounding them, though, was a huge crowd of operatives, filling every available space in the room. The main table, aside from Jim and Blair, included the primary operations people who would be coordinating the assault: Madeline, her old friend Walter, and a kid with wire-rimmed glasses and a buzz cut that Sharon didn't recognize. Evidently, he was the Section's head computer genius.

Before she would have a chance to wonder who he was, though, Michael began the briefing. Calling up a holographic map of the academy, Sharon realized that it wasn't the same place where she had gone to school all those many years ago. [Well, apparently they're not just taking me along because I know the layout of the place...]

Putting her questions aside for the moment, she listened intently as Michael began the briefing. "A Red Cell squadron attacked at 10:30 this evening, shortly after lights out for the younger students. They took out all of the teachers and security personnel, but when they tried to kidnap the students, they had disappeared. Emergency electronic surveillance has determined that the squadron is doing a detailed search of the school grounds, apparently under the assumption that the students have not left the premises. Beta and gamma teams, you will lead an assault on the school in an attempt to capture the squadron. Take as many as possible alive. Dismissed."

Switching to a map of the area around the school as everyone other than alpha team and the support group left, Michael continued, "Since a Section transport was seen leaving the scene, we have good reason to believe that the children escaped on that transport." When three red dots came up on the map, Michael directed their attention to those spots. "The transport has sent out signals that indicate it may be headed for one of these three locations. Since we do not have the manpower tonight to split us up and search the three locations, we must determine the order in which to conduct the search. We can not be certain if Red Cell has this information or not, so time is of the essence."

Sharon asked, "What is at each location?"

The kid with the buzz cut punched a button, highlighting one of the three locations. "An abandoned warehouse." He highlighted the second location. "An old fallout shelter - the adjacent house burned down in 1972." He punched up the third and final location. "An abandoned airstrip. This would probably be the least likely location, though - they'd have to go through about five miles of woods to get there."

Simon paused for a moment in thought. From the moment he had been brought into this futuristic hellhole, his entire focus had been on finding out the location of his son. Unfortunately, he had been unable to get any information out of Nikita, the blond operative who had interceded when he had tried to rescue Sandburg. The woman refused to answer any of his questions when he asked about his son, turning the tables by answering a question with a question-usually about where he had been since he 'disappeared' from Cascade. Relying on his military experience, he had simply answered -those- questions with name, rank and serial number (more or less).

But now, he had his answers. Unfortunately, they weren't exactly what he wanted to hear. Evidently, Daryl had been taken to a school called the Academy, which had been attacked during the night. Since all the teachers and security personnel were apparently counted among the dead, Daryl must have been the one driving the transport. That would make the abandoned warehouse and fallout shelter more than likely out of the question - they would remind him too much of places he had often visited in his nightmares. The airstrip, though, didn't seem like a place he's prefer to hide out in either, unless... He asked Nikita, "Would Daryl have any reason to believe that Jim and Blair would be on the team that would be coming to rescue them?"

Quietly, Nikita nodded. Considering how close the boy was to the two men, it was one of the first promises she had made to him. And she always tried to keep her promises. "It was part of our contingency plan."

"And that's the plan that's gone into effect now?" Nikita nodded.

"Then he'd have taken them to the airstrip. While Daryl's not aware of Jim's 'abilities', that part of the contingency plan would have reminded him of when we were in Peru. He would have picked the situation that would give Jim and Blair the upper hand."

Madeline immediately saw where the former police captain was going with this. "And in five miles of woods, where the enemy would think they were concealed behind rocks and trees..."

Blair completed the thought, "Jim could pick them out like ducks in a shooting gallery."

Gathering up what little paperwork he needed, Michael ordered the group, "Very well. Report to the transport. We leave in five minutes."

As Jim, Blair and Nikita stood up to leave, Sharon and Simon joined them. Jim looked over at his two friends, surprised that they were both coming on the mission. Noticing Jim's confused expression, Sharon simply replied, "I've been, for lack of a better term, 'invited' to go on this mission."

Simon raised an eyebrow in confusion, an expression that had gone noticed only by Jim. Simon had figured he would go on the mission, but only because they were going to rescue -his- son and Hell was simply going to swallow up any Operative that tried to stop him. So how did Sharon get 'invited' on the mission?

Before he could get the chance to ask that question, though, Madeline intervened, answering it for him, "Yes, she has, as have you, Mr. Banks. That is the reason that you are wearing the bracelet that Nikita gave you." She addressed the group with her next comment, "However, you should all be warned that if any of you tries -anything- even remotely resembling escaping or removing the bracelets, a trigger mechanism will inject each and everyone of you with a lethal biotoxin." Leveling her eyes on Jim, she warned, "Simply keep your focus on the mission, and everyone will work out." Returning an icy glare to Madeline, Jim nodded, and led his new 'team' to the transport, Michael and Nikita following behind him.

Operations met up with his psychological counterpart as Madeline gathered her things and left the briefing room. Sighing in abject annoyance, Operations clucked, "Tell me -again- why we haven't just canceled the lot of them?"

Coolly, Madeline replied as she watched the group walking toward the transports, "Ellison's abilities are too valuable, as our Driver's if we can convince her to work for us. And -all- of them have strong protective instincts toward each other, just as Michael and Nikita do. If they believe that focusing on the mission is the best way to keep each other alive, then that is what they will do." Turning to face Operations she added, "Some people work far better with a partner at their side than they do alone, Marcus."

Operations looked at the woman who had been his 'partner' for over thirty years and realized, reluctantly, that she was right. Sighing, he wondered if he was going to be able to control the lot of them all at once.

He had a feeling that pigs would fly before that happened.


	8. Chapter 8

They had flown in to the airstrip, working on the assumption that if anyone had been pursuing the children, they would have done so on the road. As Jim cautiously glided the plane down the short runway, the rest of the team assembled their gear and got into position, Nikita helping Simon and Sharon with the unfamiliar equipment. Once they were on the ground, Michael took the lead, asking the group, "Is everyone ready?"

Five heads nodded in response. "Let's go."

Slowly, Michael led the group off the plane, followed quickly by Jim, Blair and Nikita. Simon and Sharon brought up the rear. Once the group was off the plane, Michael leaned back, asking Jim in a whisper, "You getting anything?"

"There's a cluster of heartbeats in the hangar, toward the back. Most of them are pretty fast, so I think it's the children."

"Anyone else?"

Jim felt the hand of his guide on his shoulder as he extended his hearing as far past the boundaries of the airstrip as he dared. Leaning in toward Michael he whispered, "I can't hear anything."

Trusting the older man's 'super-hearing' Michael spoke at regular volume. "All right, let's get the children and get out of here as quickly as we can. If no one's here now, they will be soon, and I'd rather we be long gone when they get here."

Heading straight to the hangar where Jim heard the children, the team approached cautiously, not wanting to frighten the children or attract the attention of anyone who might have been approaching. They also wanted to give Jim ample quiet to alert the group if he heard anything.

Within moments, though, an excited little girl who had just seen her 'mother' shattered the quiet. Jim winced as an excited cry of "Mama!" pierced the air and a ten-year-old girl ran into Nikita's arms.

Concerned by the attention that Angela's emotional outburst might have attracted, Michael looked to Jim for an all-clear. The Sentinel quickly gave it, after he re-adjusted his hearing to see if anyone else had heard the child. Relaxing, Michael holstered his weapon, allowing himself a moment to check on his adopted 'daughter'. Coming up from behind Nikita to look into Angela's eyes, he whispered, "Hello, petit."

"Hello, Papa," whispered Angela in reply. "I'm so glad you're here."

"You shouldn't have called out like that, petit. We could have hurt you without wanting to."

"I know, Papa. I'm sorry." Allowing herself to relax and look around, she looked up to a man who seemed to be as big as a house. Shamelessly walking over to him, she asked, "Are you Jim?"

Looking down into Angela's innocent face, Jim couldn't help but break out into a smile. "Yes, I am."

Politely, Angela stuck out her hand for Jim to shake it. "I'm Angela. Daryl's told me a lot about you. He knew you would be coming."

Jim shook her hand firmly, the way an adult does when trying to encourage a child who's acting like a 'little adult'. "Well, it's a pleasure to meet you, Angela."

"Likewise," replied Angela.

Breaking in to the formal introduction, Michael got down to business, his mind always conscious of how short a time they had to get everyone out. Looking down to meet Angela eye-to-eye, he asked, "The others are with you, petit?"

Angela nodded. Taking her 'father's' hand in her own she encouraged him, "They're back here, Papa. C'mon!"

With Angela now taking the lead, she excitedly led the group to the back of the hangar, behind some carefully placed cardboard boxes. There, hidden behind and inside many of the boxes, Jim heard the heartbeats of at least five dozen children. Quickly, Angela started tapping gently on many of the boxes, quietly telling her comrades, "We've been rescued - you can come out now."

Slowly, the children started coming out of the boxes. Sharon couldn't help but notice that some of the children were as young as five years old. [I wasn't taken until I was twelve. Guess they're starting earlier these days...]

As the children started milling about, many of them started talking in the confusion, until Daryl's voice from the back called out, "Quiet, you guys! We may have been rescued, but we don't know if it's safe yet!"

Simon had to fight back the emotion and the urge to call out when he heard the voice of his son - a voice he once thought he might never hear again. He stepped back behind Sharon, a move that seemed to confuse the young profiler. She whispered to Simon, "What are you doing, Simon?"

"I'm not ready for him to see me yet," was Simon's only reply, and even that was spoken in the barest whisper, two years of pent-up emotion dancing dangerously near the surface.

Even Jim couldn't help but smile at Daryl's caution - apparently the gutsy young man who had stood up to terrorists in police headquarters had become quite a capable leader. Within moments of Daryl's warning all five dozen children were stone silent, with the exception of Angela, who Jim heard whispering, "Don't worry, Daryl! My parents are here, and they've taken care of everything."

"Your parents?" whispered Daryl. "You mean Nikita and Michael?"

Angela replied, "Yep. And Jim too."

Cautiously, Jim heard Daryl hoist what seemed to be quite a heavy load, then whisper with a grimace, "Mary Marie, we've got to put you on a diet..."

Another young girl's voice shot back, "Well, if you had remembered my Xavier chair, you wouldn't have had to carry me..."

"Well at least I'm not carrying you far," whispered Daryl in reply, "just some place where I can keep an eye on you."

"Like I'm going to get into trouble?" replied Mary Marie.

Daryl couldn't help but laugh at that. "I'm not even going to -go- there, girl..."

Quieting down, Daryl crept out from behind the crate, a gun in his hand and, apparently, Mary Marie on his back. Spotting Nikita first, Daryl holstered the weapon, allowing himself to stroll out calmly and find a place to put down the young girl on his back. Going straight to his friend, he embraced her in greeting, closing his eyes for a brief moment and allowing himself to stand down. He greeted the operative, "Hello, Nikita."

She responded in kind, "Hello, Daryl. How are you holding up?"

Breaking the embrace, he looked her straight in the eye and smiled. "Pretty good, considering. Thanks." Spotting Jim and Blair not too far away, the teen's excitement nearly bubbled over as he ran over to his friends, nearly running over Jim in his haste to embrace them.

Laughing Jim returned the hug, greeting the teen, "Gee, we've missed you too, Daryl."

Blair wanted to say something, but found himself unable to get words out of the choke hold that Daryl had put on him. [The kid must have taken up weightlifting as an extracurricular activity...] Besides, he knew there was one more reunion left that would be far more important than theirs.

Breaking the embrace, both Jim and Blair stepped aside, revealing Sharon standing next to a tall stack of boxes. Daryl looked to Jim and Blair, confused. "What's up, guys?"

Blair placed a hand on Daryl's shoulder, empathizing with the boy. "Just wait, Daryl."

Slowly, Sharon stepped aside, allowing Simon to step out from behind the boxes and lock eyes with the son that, two years ago, he thought he had buried. His voice choking back powerful emotions, Simon was barely able to get the words out as he called to his son, "Hello, Daryl."

It wouldn't have taken much to knock over Daryl Banks at that point. A strong breeze would have done it. His eyes wide with shock, Daryl could barely speak. "Dad? Is that you?" Hesitantly, the teen took two steps forward, not believing the evidence of his eyes. Simon matched him step for step, wanting to confirm for himself that his son was, indeed, alive. The closer they came to each other, the more they started to believe that this was, in fact real.

Finally, their hands came together, and each one had the physical confirmation that the other was alive, and real, and standing right in front of them. Almost instantly they were locked in an embrace, the tears flowing freely for both men. Breaking the embrace after a moment that seemed to end far too soon, Daryl looked up into the eyes of the one man he thought he would never see again and asked, "What are you doing here, Dad?"

Not quite sure if he could answer with the truth, he replied, "Son, it's a long story."

Stepping back, he noticed the bracelets on the wrists of his father, Jim, Blair and Sharon. There was only one way that he could have gotten something like - that- to match with Jim and Blair. The shock in his voice mixed with the barest hint of anger, he asked his father, "They got you, too, didn't they?"

Solemnly, Simon could only nod, and Daryl stomped his feet in response, cursing under his breath in frustration.

Knowing that the time for sentiment had most definitely past, Nikita asked Daryl, "Are all the children accounted for, Daryl?"

Wiping back the tears and steeling himself, Daryl nodded. "Yes ma'am."

Addressing the group of adults, Michael lifted Angela in his arms and declared, "Then let's get them out of here."

Immediately the children formed two single-file lines, each pair of children holding hands. Impressed at the children's quick obedience, Blair started to lead them toward the front of the hangar. The now mammoth group had almost made it to the transport plane when Jim tilted his head in an uncomfortably familiar gesture. Noticing the gesture immediately, Blair handed the responsibility of the children to Sharon and went to tend to his partner. "Jim? What is it?"

Drawing his gun, the Sentinel informed his Guide, "We've got company, Chief. And they've got a transport that makes the one the kids piled into look like a Volvo. Get them in the plane, Chief."

Drawing his own gun, Blair nodded his acknowledgement. "Right." Taking Sharon and Nikita with him, he started heading the children toward the plane at top speed, hoping the two women and Daryl could provide sufficient cover.

Once he saw that the children were safely protected by the plane's bulletproof shield, Jim pulled Simon and Michael to one side of the hangar. Michael immediately asked, "Suggestions, gentlemen?"

Turning to Jim for intel, both men weren't disappointed. "They have at least a dozen men who are spreading out around the perimeter of the base. Their leader is staying in their van, telling them that they'll move out when all the men are in position."

Michael mused, "That means we need to get them before they're all in position." Looking up at the Sentinel, he commented, "I wish we all had your ears, Jim."

It was as if a lightbulb went off in Jim's head. He told the other two men, "Maybe you could, gentlemen, maybe you could." Leaning down to use the dirt floor of the hangar as a chalkboard, Jim started to outline his idea.

* * *

Since they needed all the shooters they could get to complete the mission, Jim and Blair were the only ones who stayed behind in the transport plane, Daryl helping them to guard the children while Simon, Michael, Nikita and Sharon spread out to take care of the enemy. Since the Red Cell squadron had managed to cloak the transport and their men to avoid being detected by radar, they had to rely on Jim's senses and their tracking devices for their own men to accurately keep tabs on everyone.

Jim sat in the plane's copilot seat, staring intently at the radar of the surrounding area. Standing above him, Blair placed both of his hands on Jim's shoulders, guiding him, "All right, Jim, deep breaths. Imprint the radar screen of the area in your mind. Use your hearing like radar to keep tabs on everyone in the area. Can you hear our team?" Jim nodded, and Blair continued, "Can you hear the enemy soldiers?"

Jim nodded again. "I hear all of them. They're trying to get closer to the plane."

"You're on a headset, Jim. Can you direct the team where to go?"

After a brief, tense moment, Jim began rattling off instructions. "Simon, you have three men about fifteen feet ahead of you at ten o'clock, twelve o'clock, and two o'clock. Michael, two of your men are at nine o'clock and one is at two o'clock. Nikita, eleven o'clock, twelve o'clock, and one o'clock. Sharon, your three are sticking together at four o'clock."

Turning down his hearing to compensate for the burst of gunfire, Jim could pick out the twelve shots as they fired. When the gunfire died down, Jim scanned the area, and realized that only their men and the transport were left. Relaxing, he smiled. "We got 'em, Chief."

When he heard that, Blair allowed himself to relax and stand down, then tensed immediately when only Michael and Nikita returned to the plane. Had two of the shots been Red Cell's, and not theirs? Confused, Blair turned to his Sentinel for reassurance. "Jim?"

Already scanning the area, Jim picked up the two familiar heartbeats of his friends, both headed in the direction of the Red Cell transport. Smiling, he told his Guide, "I think Simon and Sharon are just trying to get themselves out of abeyance, Chief."

Allowing himself to slump down on the floor and rest, that comment did little to reassure him.

* * *

Jim's directions had been right on the money. It hadn't taken long to take out the half-dozen Red Cell agents-in fact, the poor fools barely knew what hit them. Within moments Sharon and Simon had reunited. Looking his new partner over, Simon assured himself she didn't seem all the worse for wear. Still, he asked anyway, "You okay, Share?"

Sharon nodded. "You?"

Simon nodded in response, and started to head back to the plane when Sharon stopped him. "Nope. I wouldn't go that way yet, if I were you, Simon."

Confused, Simon asked, "What do you mean, Share?"

In response, Sharon pulled out two bright-orange handled weapons. Recognizing them as Jay's 'wall-splitters', Simon gawked in amazement at Sharon's resourcefulness. "How did you get these back?"

Sharon grinned in reply. "It's good to have old friends. Now c'mon. We have to get the transport before it gets away.

As if on cue, a huge black van pulled out of the woods, trying to drive straight into the plane. Not wasting a minute, Sharon handed a weapon to Simon, and the pair aimed right at the truck, firing the minute they got a clear shot.

The impact with the van seemed to happen in slow motion. One of the bullets hit the back of the van, blowing through the metal and fiberglass with devastating impact. The other bullet went right into the engine, first stopping the vehicle dead in its tracks, then causing it to explode in a ball of fire.

Once the pair had recovered from seeing the shock of the blast, they ran straight back to the plane, concerned about the condition of the children and their friends. They were greeted with relaxed smiles from their teammates and a relieved embrace from Daryl. Content now that the mission was over, Sharon called out to Jim, "Can you get us back to Section, Jim?"

Firing up the engines, Jim muttered under his breath, "Count on it, Share. You can count on it."

* * *

Epilogue - Five Years Later

"You can't possibly be serious."

"Why not? They know the area better than anyone we've got. They've proven themselves to be the most efficient and effective team we've had over the past three years. At least three members of the team possess top-notch leadership skills. And they've all become first-class operatives. You can't possibly deny the need for a new substation, can you?"

Operations ran a hand across his face in frustration. He had the numbers right in front of him, showing just as great a need as Madeline had suggested. And, like it or not, they probably were the best team for the job. "But don't you think it will only increase their chances to try and escape Section together?"

Madeline shook her head. "Not when they realize what the need is. We give them a certain degree of autonomy, to do things as they see fit, within limits. And we remind them that those bracelets they all wear are not only linked to each other, but to us via satellite. I can push the button at any time."

Realizing that he was not going to get out of this, Operations sighed. In his heart, he believed that this was a mistake. But then, if he had followed his heart seven years ago, they wouldn't be in this mess in the first place. "Very well, give them their new assignment, and get them on the next plane."

* * *

Madeline almost took a perverse enjoyment in hearing the casual conversation abruptly cease the minute she walked into her office. It never ceased to amaze her that, after five years, Team Sentinel had grown closer than ever, accepting their new team member as one of the family right away. Of course, it didn't hurt that young Daryl was the Watcher's son, either.

But, the bracelets they all wore on their wrists kept them in constant reminder that she held the power to wipe out the lot of them. As such, they regarded her with a mixture of disgust, fear and begrudging respect. It was good to know that no matter -what- the unconventional team did, she was still the one in control. Walking to her desk and sitting down in her chair, she quietly announced to the group, "I have a new assignment for you."

As she handed out thick dossiers to each member of the group, she continued, "The Pacific Northwest has seen a five-fold increase in activity, both overt and covert, over the past seven years. Apparently, while local law enforcement had been capable of containing the problem in the past, they can do so no longer. We have been sending operatives back and forth to the area on a mission-by- mission basis, to the point where it is becoming a major drain on our resources. Forced with no other alternative, we are opening a new substation in the area. Hopefully a constant Section presence will begin to bring the situation under control. Simon, I'd like you to run the substation, with Sharon as your second- in-command. Jim, Blair and Daryl will be your operatives and Jay will handle your computers and weapons needs. Naturally, you will all still answer directly to me, and your bracelets will still be able to be activated by satellite uplink should a critical situation arise."

The team looked at each other in disbelief. Simon had only run a couple of missions at this point. And now the team was being given control over an entire -substation-? Sharon asked the question that was on everyone's minds. "Why us, Madeline?"

"You know the area better than anyone. We don't have to worry about any sort of personality conflicts, because you have already proven yourselves to be one of the most efficient teams in Section. And we have reason to believe that your departures from the area was the reason why we have encountered this problem in the first place."

Jim had already put two and two together, and his excitement was starting to spread through the group like wildfire. Deciding she better let them go before their attitudes corrupted any -more- operatives, she chased them out of her office, concluding the meeting with, "You leave for Cascade in the morning. Dismissed."

* * *

Police Commissioner Diane McPherson looked over the city skyline and sighed, sipping her cup of coffee and praying for the miracle she knew was not coming. She was definitely getting too old for this kind of work.

Some days it amazed her that she hadn't been voted out of office by now. In fact, she had just been elected to a second term, mostly because she ran unopposed. Apparently, no one else wanted to try and clean up a city that was going straight to Hell.

As she took another sip of coffee, her thoughts wandered back yet again to the friends she had lost so long ago. She began to understand the reason why God had blessed her city - more than any other place in America, Cascade needed the wisdom of a Guide and the protection of a Sentinel. But now that those men were gone, there was nothing left. Nothing left but grief, and sorrow, and memories. And because that gift had been such a closely guarded secret, only she was left alone to mourn the loss.

Draining the last of the coffee cup, she realized that she could put it off no longer. She needed to cross the reception area, get to her office, and get to work. Maybe today she would come up with the idea that would start to get some of the evil off the streets for good. [Yeah, you just keep thinking that, McPherson. You just keep thinking that...]

As she opened the door to her office and stepped through, her eyes wandered again to her view of Cascade, and the first twinkling star in the night sky. Sighing, she couldn't help but think of the old children's rhyme [Why not? I've tried everything else.] and began to recite:

"Starlight, starbright, first star I see tonight; Oh wish I may, Oh wish I might, Please grant the wish I wish tonight."

"Wherever they've gone," Diane called to the star, "Please bring them back. We need them. I miss them."

A deep voice that she never thought she would hear again called out from the shadows of the room, "I've missed you too, Diane."

The empty coffee cup dropped to the desk, spilling coffee on a mountain of papers as it fell. It went unnoticed by its owner, though, as she turned around to see the Sentinel, his Guide, their Watcher and the Warrior step out of the shadows and into the moonlight.

Unable to speak, Diane stumbled past the desk and back to the door, wanting desperately to turn on the lights in the room and make sure that she wasn't seeing ghosts, or worse, going crazy. A hand on her wrist, though, stopped her in her tracks, and she found herself looking into the eyes of Cascade's Sentinel. "Please," he stated simply, "Don't do that. It's safer this way."

Finally regaining her ability to speak, Diane stammered out, "W-w-what are you doing here?"

"We came to help," Sharon replied. "We heard of your problems and knew you couldn't handle them on your own."

"Everyone thinks you're dead," exclaimed Diane. "Wait until I tell Chief Warren..."

She crossed the room again, moving straight to the phone. She had picked up the line and was about to hit the speed dial when another strong hand stopped her. Looking up into the blue eyes of the Guide, she set down the phone under his guiding hand. "Please," whispered Blair, "No one must know that we're here."

Diane regarded the Guide with confusion. "I don't understand."

"Our lives are very different now," Simon responded, "And it would put both you and us in great danger if anyone knows that we came to you tonight. Just know that if you ever need us again, we'll be here."

Diane was still confused. "I don't understand. How will you know when I need you? How can I reach you?"

The moonlight reflecting off their silver bracelets as they disappeared back into the shadows, the Sentinel replied, "Don't worry. We'll find you."

**-end-**


End file.
